Spot, Is That You?
by Liams Kitten
Summary: One Newsie had a secret that he never wanted anyone to find out. Things had been going well, until one day he was careless, and someone found out... A SpotRace fic (sort of...) REVIEW [Rated for language and SLASH]
1. Oh my God

A/N: This is my first Newsies fic (actually, my first fic altogether), so don't kill me if I get some of their personalities wrong, mess up on tiny details, or if you don't like the accent. This takes place after the movie  
  
************************* Chapter 1: Oh my God  
  
"Come on, ya bum, run faster!" Race was at the tracks. He angrily puffed on his cigar as the horse he had bet on finished fifth. He had blown all the money he'd made selling newspapers that day on that horse, having gotten a 'hot tip from a reliable source'. "Reliable source my ass," Race muttered as he was leaving.  
  
"Better luck next time, Racetrack!" the bookie called to him as he dejectedly walked away.  
  
Instead of going straight to Tibby's, Racetrack leaned against a building on the street corner to mull over his thoughts. He was still busy thinking and puffing his cigar when someone caught his eye. It was a girl that looked about his age. Something about her looked familiar. Racetrack walked over to her.  
  
"Hey, dollface, where ya been all my life?" he said smoothly, walking up to her while stomping out his cigar. Up close, he could see she had very short hair, unusually short for a girl.  
  
Seeing Racetrack, the girl turned white, muttered "shit", and turned to run. Race put a hand out to stop her, saying "Don't go sweetie, I ain't gonna hurt yous." The girl turned her head away from him and buried her face in her hands.  
  
"Come on, goil, I knows I seen you someplace.oh my god." It had finally occurred to Racetrack where he had seen that pout before. "No, no.i-it can't be..Spot Conlon?"  
  
******************************  
  
Now I KNOW I'm gonna get flames from Spot lovers, but the truth is, I'm a Spot/Race lover that wanted to take a different approach on writing a story. So, flame away but I won't continue this story unless I get one reviewer that likes this idea.  
  
Also, I might change this story's title to "Spot, is that you?!" after I post the second chapter, just to let you know 


	2. Revelation

A/N: Wow, three whole reviews and no flames! I want to apologize for last chapter being so short, I had originally written it as a prologue, and only called it chapter 1 because I don't like it when the numbers don't match. Anyway, on to the story!  
  
**************  
  
The girl gave up trying to hide her face from Racetrack. She sighed. "Yeah, it's me."  
  
"What da hell happened to ya? You a drag?"  
  
"No, Race, I ain't a drag-"  
  
"But yous is in goil clothing. And yous got breasts! Spot, how da hell'd you get breasts?"  
  
"Race-"  
  
"Yous is wearin' make-up too! What da hell is goin' on here?!"  
  
"You gonna let me answer now, or are ya gonna ask me tweny more questions?" Spot shot Race a look that never failed to quiet anyone that was annoying him. Sure enough, Race only gulped then shut his mouth. "Before I tell ya anything, get yous doity mitts offa me and lets go someplace where halfa Manhattan ain't gonna hear what I gotta say." Without waiting for an answer, Spot turned and stormed off. Racetrack regained enough of his senses to trot along meekly behind.  
  
Spot didn't slow down until they had reached an alleyway. There, Spot stopped, checked to make sure the alley was empty, then pulled Race in by his ear.  
  
Spot paced anxiously while Race stood watching. After a couple of minutes, Racetrack's curiosity got the better of him, and he said, "So, are you gonna tell me, or should I-" Spot glared and Race shut up.  
  
"Look, dis is hard for me to talk about, okay? I neva told anybody before, and I don't know what to say."  
  
"How bout you start by telling me why da hell da famous Spot Conlon is standin' in front a me lookin' like a friggin' goil?" Racetrack's voice cracked on the last two words.  
  
Spot sighed angrily, stared Racetrack in the eye, and said calmly, "Dat's because I am a girl."  
  
"No yous ain't."  
  
"Yeah, I am."  
  
"Yous can't be. All dose goils I seen you take to bed wicha-"  
  
"Were just friends I wanted ta talk to." When Race only gaped at him, Spot said, "Did ya ever hear any noises comin' from me room when I had a goil ova?"  
  
Thinking it over, Race realized he hadn't. It also suddenly dawned on him that Spot never took his shirt off or went swimming with the others. But,  
  
"Your breasts?" he managed to say.  
  
Spot blushed. "I tie them flat wid a piece of cloth." Spot ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "Look, Racetrack, yous can't breathe a woid a dis to anyone."  
  
Race made no response, still shocked at the idea of the most feared Newsie in al of New York being nothing more than a weak, scrawny girl.  
  
Spot's eyes filled with pleading. "Come on, Race. We been buddies a long time now. If any of da guys finds out, they'd prolly kill me. Don't tell anyone." Then, she added quietly, so softly that Race wasn't quite sure that he had even heard it, "Please."  
  
This scared Racetrack. He never in his life heard Spot Conlon ask nicely for anything. Even if he is really a girl, he shouldn't beg.  
  
Racetrack mock-pouted. "Aw, Spot, wid all we been trough tageda, yous doubting my reliability?" More seriously he added, "Yous can trust me. I won't tell."  
  
Spot smiled at Race. "Thanks."  
  
"Can I ask yous somethin'?"  
  
"Will I answer?" Spot had regained most of the attitude she normally had while commanding her Brooklyn newsies.  
  
Racetrack paused for a moment, as though unsure whether or not to ask, but decided the risk was worth it. "How come yous pretend ta be a boy when yous actually a goil?"  
  
"Well, let's see. Maybe 'cause if they know I'm a goil, they'll eida rape me or murder me. Or both."  
  
"Dat's not what I mean." Race searched for the right words. "Why'd ya start in da first place?"  
  
Spot sighed. "Well-" She abruptly stopped when Race held a finger to his lips. He'd heard something. There it was again.  
  
Someone was looking for Race, calling his name, and they were only a few steps away from the alley's entrance.  
  
************************  
  
Well, there you are. Maybe now the flames'll start for anyone that didn't get that Spot was a girl. The next chapter will probably take a long time for me to write, at least a week, so I hope you'll all be patient for me.  
  
See ya then. 


	3. Race's Feelings

I'm sorry about the long time it took. I was gonna update on Thursday, really I was! It was typed out and everything! But you know the blackout that happened on the east coast on Thursday? Since I live in Brooklyn, I didn't have electricity until 4 yesterday. So, as an apology, I made this chapter longer than it originally was. Hope you don't hate me!  
  
Oh, and just to warn you, I think I mighta made up a couple of words but they work in the text.  
  
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to klover, for being the first person officially addicted to my story. Enjoy!  
  
*********************** Chapter 3: Race's Feelings  
  
Oh shit, shit, what the hell am I gonna do? Race was panicking, but not nearly as bad as Spot herself. She was shaking and pale, staring wide- eyed at the street past the alley.  
  
The person would be on them any second. Suddenly and without warning, Racetrack grabbed Spot by her shoulders, spun her around so her back faced the entrance, and proceeded to kiss Spot Conlon on the lips with a passion. He took his hat off and put it behind Spot's head to hide the fact her hair was so short. Spot was limp in his arms, stunned by his daring.  
  
"Racetrack? Dat you?" Kid-Blink stuck his head in the alleyway. He spotted the pair kissing. "oh sorry, I thought-Race!" His eye widened in surprise. "Dat IS you!"  
  
Race had taken his mouth off Spot's so he could talk to Blink.  
  
"Hey, Blink, what's up?"  
  
"Oh, well, yous said you was gonna meet me at Tibby's once da race was over, and since it finished a while ago I wanted ta know why." He grinned impishly at Race and pointed to Spot. "Guess dat explains it."  
  
Race made a face at Kid-Blink. "Yeah, I fogot all about dat. I'll come now. But foist," he turned his gaze to focus on Spot, "I gotta settle sometin wid this smart ass." He kissed her on the nose, then looked expectantly at Blink.  
  
Kid stared back at them. Then it hit him. "Oh! You want me to..." he reddened slightly. "Yeah, I'll just, wait over there." He trotted off in the direction he pointed to give his friend some time alone with the girl.  
  
As soon as Blink disappeared, Spot pulled out of Racetrack's grasp and slapped him across the face.  
  
"Hey! Wat da hell was that for?" Race cried, holding a hand to his cheek.  
  
"For kissing me widout me permission," Spot stated.  
  
"But if I didn't, den Blink woulda found out!"  
  
"True." Spot raised her hand and slapped Race across the other cheek.  
  
"Hey! Now what'd I do?!"  
  
"Kissed me."  
  
"Didn't I just tell yous-"  
  
"You told me why ya kissed me and I accept dat." Spot continued, glaring, "Wat yous failed ta mention was why I got the taste of cigas in me mouth." Race just stared, so Spot pulled him close to her and shouted, "Yous tongue was in me mouth!"  
  
"Oh," Race said, blushing. "Ow....Yeah, dat." When he didn't explain further, Spot smirked at him and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait!" Racetrack called. Spot turned back around and raised an eyebrow, an annoyed expression on her face. "Yous can't go out dere."  
  
"And, why da hell not?"  
  
"Cause if yous do, then Blink'll see ya, and if he recognizes ya, den yous can say 'bye bye' to ya secret."  
  
"So, I'm pretty much stuck hea den?"  
  
"No, I got a plan."  
  
Spot snorted. "Well, that's a foist."  
  
Rae ignored this comment. "Now, all wes gotta do is let me leave before yous. I'll start walkin' to Tibby's wid him, den yous leave and go da otha way."  
  
Spot rolled her eyes. "Yeah, brilliant."  
  
Race put his hat back on his head, lit a cigar, and turned to leave. He turned suddenly, slapped a hand against his head, and said, "Damnit!"  
  
"Sometin' wrong wid yous precious plan?"  
  
"Yous gotta get back ta Brooklyn."  
  
"...And?  
  
"Somebody'll prolly recognize ya!"  
  
"Ya mean kinda like wat happened taday?" Spot said sarcastically.  
  
"Dat's exactly wat I mean! Now, how are we gonna get yous back ta Brooklyn widout bein' seen?"  
  
Spot stiffened. "Sorry, but 'we' ain't getting' me nowhere. I can get meself back on me own."  
  
"Dear me! Aren't we touchy?"  
  
Spot glared and Race gulped. "You know what, smart-ass? It just so happens I came prepared ta go back ta Brooklyn." As if to prove her point, Spot bent down to pick her skirt up.  
  
"Um...uh..." Race stammered, turning beet red.  
  
"What?" Spot straightened up, her skirt in her hand. She realized what the problem must be, and laughed, loudly. "Oh! Yous tink...oh man! Yeah, genious, quit tinkin things like dat and look at me legs." Racetrack's blush deepened, causing Spot to laugh harder and thrust a trousered leg into Race's line of vision.  
  
Wait a minute. Trousers?  
  
He looked at both of Spot's legs and, sure enough, she had pants on under her skirt. If possible, Race's face turned even redder. Spot howled with laughter, letting go of her skirt.  
  
Once she caught her breath, she said, "And did yous by any chance happen to look at me waist?"  
  
Race did, noticing for the first time there was a pink ribbon tied around her waist. Only, it wasn't a ribbon.  
  
"So dat's why yous wear pink suspenders."  
  
"Yep. Now, ain't it time yous go join our buddy Blink outside?"  
  
"Mmm." Race was staring into Spot's eyes. He tried to look away, but they were captivating.  
  
A sharp pain in one leg brought him back to reality.  
  
"Yous done gawkin' at me yet?"  
  
Damn damn shit FUCK, Race thought fiercely. "Uh, yeah, I was just thinking...ya got any extra money?"  
  
"I got a couple bucks. Why?"  
  
"Well, maybe yous should buy a wig."  
  
"Racey-boy, dat's prolly da most intelligent ting yous said all day."  
  
Racetrack made a face, said, "So I'll see ya round den," and casually strolled out of the alley.  
  
Kid-Blink spotted Race and waved him over. "So," he said slyly, "who was she?"  
  
"Oh her? She's nobody, just an old friend."  
  
"Do you kiss all your old friend like dat?"  
  
"I eva kiss you like dat?"  
  
Blink rolled his eye, and Race stuck his cigar in his mouth.They started walking to Tibby's.  
  
"So, Race, I'm assuming you've gotten over your love for a certain Brooklyn newsie."  
  
Racetrack, caught off-guard, accidentally inhaled his cigar smoke too quickly. Blink pounded Race on the back, and Race gasped, "What?"  
  
"Yous remember, don't ya?"  
  
~flashback~  
  
Blink couldn't get to sleep. First he was too cold, so he pulled his blanket up higher around him. Next, Mush's snores were pounding in his ears from the bunk across from his, so he threw his pillow over Mush's face. Then, after thrashing about for twenty minutes, it was too hot.  
  
Finally, as he was drifting off to sleep, he smelled cigar smoke coming from the bottom bunk.  
  
"Race, I'm gonna soak ya," he muttered as he jumped down from his bottom bunk to face Racetrack.  
  
Race was sitting in bed with his head leaning against the wall. He had a pile of cigar ashes on his shirt, a cigar burned almost to the butt in his mouth, and he was still fully clothed, shoes and all.  
  
"Race?" Blink whispered.  
  
Race turned his head to face Blink. "Whaddya want?"  
  
"Yous alright?"  
  
"Does it look like I'm alright?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothin."  
  
"Yous sure?"  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
Blink gave up trying to talk to him. "Geez, yous is startin ta sound a lot like Spot."  
  
At the word 'Spot', a tear trickled out of Racetrack's eye and ran down his face.  
  
Kid-Blink saw this and got worried. "Did Spot do somethin' to ya?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then wat's wrong? Race, I neva seen yous like this."  
  
Race moved away from the wall and pulled himself to the edge of the bed so his feet dangled off the side. He patted the spot next to him while taking the cigar butt out of his mouth and tossing it into the ashtray.  
  
Blink sat down next to Race. Race glanced at him and put his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees. He was staring intently at the floor.  
  
Kid thought Racetrack had forgotten about him until he heard Race say, "Yous eva been in love before, Blink?"  
  
"Um, well, ah, I um, n-no, I don't tink so. Why?"  
  
Silence. Race was still sitting there, head in hands, looking at the floor. Kid-Blink was wondering why he'd asked a question like that.  
  
Then a thought occurred to him. "Race, don't tell me. Yous ain't in love wid Spot Conlon, are yous?"  
  
A sob escaped Racetrack's lips. He'd been trying to hold it back, but couldn't when Blink stated, so simply, what had been bothering Race endless nights.  
  
After the sob, Race's shoulders began shaking from crying. Blink felt sympathy for his friend, and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.  
  
"And yous know what da woist part is?" Race said, sitting up straight and wiping his eyes. "I can neva tell him. Every time I sees him, I just wanna tell him, hold him, do somethin'! But I can't." A look of horror crossed Race's features. "Damnit! Blink, ya can't tell anybody...jeez, if anybody else finds out-"  
  
Blink held up a hand. "Don't worry, Racce, ya secret's safe wid me. Besides," he continued in barely a whisper, "I know exactly how yous feel."  
  
Racetrack didn't hear him. "Thanks, buddy. Yous know, it feels a lot betta ta have told somebody." He bent down to pull off his boots, then crawled under the covers. "Night, Blink."  
  
"G'night, Race," said Blink, climbing into his own pillowless bed. The last thing he saw before he drifted off to sleep was Mush, curled up and hugging Blink's pillow.  
  
~present~  
  
Once he could breathe again, Racetrack realized the irony of the situation and started laughing. First it was a snort, then a giggle, followed by a full-out, laughing-so-hard-your-sides-ache laugh. Blink just raised his eyebrows, watching his friend crack up.  
  
As soon as Racetrack regained some control, he gasped, "Blink, do me a favor, would ya?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"NEVER mention that EVER again!"  
  
**********************************  
  
Whew, that was long. Don't expect something like that again any time soon, all right?  
  
Time for a couple of shout-outs:  
  
KLOVER: You're the first person to be addicted to my story! Thank you very much! I'm really sorry it took so long for this chapter, hope it was worth the wait.  
  
SNOOZA1: So, you like it then. Heh, thanks.  
  
HARLEY: Honey, trust me, it takes a WHOLE lot more than that to lower my ego. Thank-you for the compliments, anyway, and hope you enjoyed this  
  
That's all for now, if you read this and didn't review, do so now. It would make me happy, and when I'm happy I update faster. I promise I won't take longer than a week anymore, but that doesn't mean I HAVE to take a week!  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	4. Spot's Cousin

A/N: New chapter! Yay. Gotta do shout-outs first.  
  
CORKY HIGGINS: Glad you like it. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll change your mind.  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: You're insane, did you know that?  
  
COTTON BLOSSOM: Hey, buddy, you really must watch that movie. Now. I mean it.  
  
KLOVER: I'm really happy you like it this much. I love it when the newsies are confused too, they're sweet that way.  
  
Hey, I got 4 whole reviews this time. Very happy about that. Okay, heeeeere's the chapter.  
  
********************************  
  
Chapter Four: Spot's Cousin  
  
Spot was sitting on her 'throne', looking down on her newsies. It had been two days since her meeting with Racetrack.  
  
She was still kicking herself for that mistake. Going to the races dressed as a girl just to catch a glimpse of a certain Italian gambler that day was not the first time she'd done so. In fact, there were some times when she'd practically given her newspapers away in order to make it to the tracks on time.  
  
If only she hadn't stayed around to admire Racetrack, he probably still wouldn't know. But she saw him there, with an adorable thoughtful expression on his face, and had to stop and watch him.  
  
But, there was something Spot knew that she could use to her advantage. Racetrack was obviously in love with her. And, since she was after all Spot Conlon, she was going to have quite a bit of fun messing around with Racetrack's brain.  
  
"Spot? Hey Spot!"  
  
It took a moment, but she realized someone had approached her throne and wanted to talk to her.  
  
She sighed. "Whaddya want, Sneaks?"  
  
"Shrimpy said Kelly's hea and he wants ta see yous."  
  
Kelly? Jack hadn't been to Brooklyn since the strike ended. She gripped her cane and jumped down from her throne. "Where are dey?"  
  
Sneaks led her to where Jack was talking to a very young, excitable newsie named Shrimpy.  
  
Sneaks grabbed Shrimpy and left so Jack could talk with Spot. They both stared at each other a moment, then smiled and spit-shook.  
  
"Hey, Jackie-boy, long time no see. I was startin' ta tink yous fogot about me."  
  
"Nah. Hey, listen, I'm hea on business."  
  
The smile left Spot's face. "Oh yeah? Wat happened?"  
  
"My good friend Racetrack wanted me ta tell yous dat he wants ya cousin ta meet him in front a da Horace Greely statcha tamara around noon."  
  
"Me cousin?"  
  
"Yeah. Patricia or sometin' like dat."  
  
"Oh yeah. Patricia." I'm gonna kill that little Italian bastard, she thought furiously.  
  
"Hey Spot, yous got a cousin yous been keepin' from us?" The speaker was a tall, black-haired, blue-eyed, slow-witted fellow named Big Pete.  
  
"Nah, Pete, calm down. She just got hea from Ireland and Race ran inta her comin' outta da races." Damn I'm good, she thought.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So, anyways, Cowboy, yous tell Race me cousin'll be dere if she wants ta."  
  
"Aright. Don' make a habit outta usin' me as a message boy, got dat?" Spot's eyes flashed dangerously, so Jack hurriedly added, "Not dat I mind or anytin'."  
  
Spot nodded, and Jack left.  
  
**************************  
  
Race looked at the clock anxiously. Twelve-fifteen and he still had ten more papes to sell. He was starting to get desperate.  
  
"Wild elephants loose in Harlem!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Several buildings in danger of collapsing!"  
  
Several passers-by took interest in what he was saying. Before long, he'd sold his last pape. Racetrack started running towards where the statue was.  
  
"Hey! That story isn't in here!"  
  
"Sorry, no refunds!" Race called over his shoulder.  
  
As he neared Horace, he caught sight of Spot. He stopped short and tried hard not to laugh.  
  
Yeah it was Spot. But she was wearing a deep red curly wig.  
  
"Ya late. I wouldn' laugh if I was yous."  
  
"Sorry, Spot, red ain't ya color," he said. "And since I had ta meet yous hea so early, I didn' get ta go ta da tracks."  
  
"Oh, so dat's my fault, is it?"  
  
"Well...no."  
  
"Thought not." She leaned against Horace's leg and crossed her arms. "So, why do ya want me hea like dis?"  
  
"I wanted ta talk wid ya, and people'd tink it was weird if dey say da leada of Brooklyn wid me."  
  
Spot shrugged. Racetrack said, "I thought we'd walk ta Central Park. Dere's benches dere we can sit on ta talk."  
  
Spot only shrugged again, but when Race started walking, she sighed and followed.  
  
"Hey Race, I wanna ask yous sometin'."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Where da hell did ya come up wid da name Patricia."  
  
"It's da only Irish name I knows. Why, yous don' like it?"  
  
"It's not me name, Racey."  
  
"Well what is yous name?"  
  
"I ain't tellin' yous."  
  
Race lit a cigar. "So, as yous prolly know, I got a couple questions I wanna ask."  
  
"And, as yous prolly know, I'll only answer da ones I feels like answerin'."  
  
Race nodded. "Right. So anyways, da foist question I wanna ask is- How come yous was dressed as a goil dat day I saw ya?"  
  
Spot had a story planned in case he asked. "Well, ya know, goils tend ta sell more papes. Especially if ya can pity some women inta tinkin' yous've been abused or sometin'."  
  
Race raised his eyebrows. They's reached Central Park by then, and sat down on one of the benches there. "Aright, neva knew dat. So, how come yous is a boy around da guys? Goils is allowed ta be newsies."  
  
"Shoa, dey're allowed ta be newsies. But day shoa as hell ain't allowed ta be leada. Not in Brooklyn, at least."  
  
"But yous coulda just been a regular newsie-"  
  
"But dat ain't what I want, Racey-boy. I wanted ta be da leada. An' I am."  
  
"Why would yous wanna be leada in da foist place?"  
  
Spot smiled. "Sorry Race, yous went ova ya limit."  
  
Race looked confused. "Wat limit?"  
  
"Yous said ya wanted ta ask me a couple a questions. A couple is two. So yous asked two." Spot smirked evilly at Race when he cursed.  
  
"So Race, I want yous ta find sometin' out foa me, kay?"  
  
Racetrack rolled his eyes. "What is it, Spot?"  
  
"Find out foa me if Mush is single."  
  
Race choked on his cigar. For having smoked so often, he sure was doing a lot of that lately. "What?"  
  
Spot grinned evilly again. "Yous hoid me. Find out if Mush would be intrested in Spot Conlon's cousin." When Race just gaped at her, Spot said, "Dat's a good boy," and kissed Racetrack on the nose. She stood up, shook her skirts out, and walked away.  
  
Spot liked Mush?!?  
  
*********************  
  
My Spot!Muse enjoys messing with people's brains. I'm not sure when I'll be updating, I'll try for Monday, but I'm not promising anything. Remember, reviews make me want to please the readers, so the more I get, the harder I'll try for Monday.  
  
Till then,  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	5. Poker Games and Kisses

A/N: Sorry, bout the gap in updates, 'specially after I said I'd try for last Monday, I was on vacation, but now I'm BACK and ready for battle.  
  
SHOUT-OUTS!!!  
  
KELLYANNE: Glad you like the shockage. More good shockage to come soon, I promise.  
  
PYROMANIACAL LLAMA: I'm still not used to the idea of Spot being a girl, and I'm the one who wrote it.odd, huh? I keep writing he instead of she, and then I have to read it over. I have actually read the Alanna series, they're my favorite books.  
  
ANGELFISH7: Yeah, Spot likes Mush, heh. Don't worry, I promise you'll find out Spot's real name by the end of the story.  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: Glad you like it, dear. I wrote more, aren't you happy?  
  
COTTON BLOSSOM: I'm telling you, WATCH THE BLOODY MOVIE  
  
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to a fantastic author, Cotton Blossom. Go read her story Only Hope if you like Outsiders. It's good, I promise.  
  
WARNING: This chapter contains VERY minor slash. If you don't like slash, sorry, I had to put it in. Don't hate me for it.  
  
************************  
  
Chapter 5: Poker Games and Kisses  
  
Race was still in a daze when, an hour later, he walked into the lodging house. 'Spot ain't supposed ta like Mush,' he thought unhappily. 'She's supposed ta like me.'  
  
Blink spotted him and ran over. "So, who was dat pretty little redhead I spotted ya wid at Central Park taday? Anudda 'old friend', eh?" He nudged Race in the side.  
  
"Achually, no. It wasn't."  
  
"Den who was she?"  
  
"Ya know Spot Conlon?" Blink nodded. "Dat was his cousin."  
  
Blink's jaw dropped. "Yous went out wid Spot's cousin?  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Spot has a cousin?"  
  
"Seems dat way."  
  
"Spot's related to a redhead?"  
  
"He's Irish, ain't he?"  
  
Race plopped down on one of the couches in the room. Blink sat next to him. "So, do ya like her?"  
  
"She's okay. A lot like Spot."  
  
"Ya gonna go out wid her again?"  
  
"Don't look like I am."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Cause she likes Mush."  
  
Blink's jaw dropped a second time. Racetrack nodded grimly.  
  
"Well, who wouldn't like Mush," Blink said. He realized exactly what he'd said, and blushed.  
  
Racetrack's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Yous like him, don't yous?"  
  
Blink was spared answering this when Jack called out, "Who's up foa a couple games a poker?"  
  
Race's head snapped in the direction of Jack's voice. "Do yous even gotta ask?" He trotted over to the table Jack had set up, then motioned for Blink to join them.  
  
Jack shuffled the cards, then dealt them. The three of them placed their bets. Race put his poker face on.  
  
"How many, Blink?"  
  
"Umm...two?"  
  
"Umm...two?" Race mimicked.  
  
Blink made a face, and accepted his two cards. He grinned as he put them into his hand.  
  
"So, Race, how'd ya like Spot's cousin?" Jack asked, giving Race the three cards he had asked for.  
  
"She's aright," he answered as he rearranged the cards in his hand.  
  
"She likes Mush more dan him," Blink said.  
  
"Is dat true, Race?" Jack asked, picking up a card for himself.  
  
Racetrack nodded, showing no emotion due to the fact that he was, after all, playing poker.  
  
Race ended up winning that game, and the following four games. After that, Jack checked his pockets and said, "I'm out. I gotta save some money ta buy me papes tamara."  
  
"Jaaack," Race whined. "Poker ain't fun wid only two playas."  
  
Jack stood up and searched the room. He spotted Mush talking to Dutchy. "Hey, Mush!" he called. "Yous wanna play poker wid Race and Blink?"  
  
"Sure," said Mush, walking over to them.  
  
"There, my replacement." Jack joined Crutchy and Pie-eater on a couch.  
  
Race took over as dealer. Mush pulled the chair Jack had been sitting in closer to Blink. He smiled at Blink and accepted the cards Racetrack dealt him.  
  
Blink reddened very slightly. Race saw this. 'Ain't no way Blink don't like Mush,' he thought to himself.  
  
"Mush, how many?"  
  
Mush studied his cards, then said, "Tree, please."  
  
As Race gave Mush the cards, he said, "Hey, Mush, yous got a goilfriend?"  
  
Blink hid his face behind his cards to hide the blush he felt creeping up his face.  
  
"No, why?"  
  
"Uh, Race, gimme one card."  
  
Racetrack ignored Blink. "Dere's a goil I wen out wid dat says she's intrested in yous."  
  
"Racetrack, gimme a card please."  
  
"Really? Who is she?"  
  
"I need a card, Racetrack."  
  
Mush and Race were talking as though Blink wasn't even there. "She's Spot's cousin."  
  
"Oh yeah, I rememba Jack told me 'bout dat."  
  
"FOR DA LOVE A GOD, RACETRACK, GIMME A FUCKIN' CARD!!" Blink lost it completely. He stood up quickly, knocking over his chair. "Yous two is sittin' dere, chattin' widout a care in da woild when wes in da MIDDLE of a fuckin' poker game."  
  
The room went silent. Everyone stared at the table with Blink fuming, Mush looking ashamed, and Racetrack expressionless. Race stared calmly at Blink, then picked up the top card off the deck and tossed it over to him.  
  
"SHIT!!!" Kid-Blink tore up his five cards and threw them into the air. He then stormed up the stairs into the bedroom. Mush moved to follow, but Race held him back.  
  
"Let 'im cool off a bit foist," he suggested.  
  
Jack walked over to the table, righted Blink's chair, and sat on it. He looked at Mush and Race curiously before speaking.  
  
"It isn't often dat Blink loses his temper," he said softly. "The only oda time I seen him angry was when I became a scab. Wat happened dis time?"  
  
"We was talkin', me an' Race, an' we was ignorin' him," Mush blurted out. "Wes shoulda paid attention-"  
  
Jack held up a hand to silence him. "It's okay, Mush. Don't get upset." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Something like bein' ignored never upset him before."  
  
"Maybe he didn't like wat we was talkin' about," suggested Mush. "But why would talkin' 'bout me an' Spot's cousin botha him?"  
  
"I tink I knows. I don't tink Blink would want me tellin' yous, but I do tink yous'll find out real soon." Racetrack's expression hadn't changed during the discussion. He added, "Yous could go check on Blink now, Mush."  
  
****************************  
  
Blink was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was very ashamed of his outburst. He knew it shouldn't have, but it really bothered him to hear them talking about Mush getting a girlfriend.  
  
He heard the door open, but ignored it. Footsteps approached the bed.  
  
Blink knew, without even looking, who it was. "So, yous got a goilfriend now?"  
  
Mush sighed. "Blink, I'm sorry."  
  
"Foa wat?"  
  
"Ignorin' yous. We shoulda paid attention. I didn' know yous'd get that upset."  
  
"It ain't ya fault."  
  
There was an awkward silence. Then Mush said, "No."  
  
"No wat?"  
  
"Yous asked me if I had a goil now. I don't."  
  
"But, Spot's cousin-"  
  
"I knows somebody ten times betta dan any goil."  
  
Blink's head appeared over the side of the bunk. "Who?"  
  
"You."  
  
Kid-Blink's jaw dropped. Mush smiled at him.  
  
"Blink, I wouldn' be able ta go out wid anudda goil cause, I tink I love yous."  
  
They gazed into each other's eyes. Then Blink said, "I-I love yous too, Mushee."  
  
Mush stood on his tiptoes, and Blink leaned over the edge of his bunk, and they shared their first kiss.  
  
*************************  
  
Wow. Okay, just realized Spot's not even in that chapter. If you read this and don't like slash, hats off to you. It probably won't get 'worse' than that.  
  
Please review, I appreciate it very much.  
  
Much love,  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	6. The Brooklyn Lodging House

A/N: Shout-outs:  
  
COTTON BLOSSOM: Welcome, buddy. Watch it. Watch it soon.  
  
MERP: I love Blink and Mush too. Thanks.  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: Thanks, it does look better, don't it?  
  
STEPHANIE: Thanks.  
  
Here's the story.  
  
***************************  
  
Chapter 6: The Brooklyn Lodging House  
  
It was a very lazy night at the Brooklyn lodging house. Everyone had finished selling papers, and it was too early for bed, so everyone was just hanging out in the main room. Spot was sitting on the indoor version of her throne.  
  
"Hey, Conlon."  
  
"Whaddya want, Big Pete?" she said, not bothering to look up from polishing her cane.  
  
"Yous cousin still hea?"  
  
"Yeah." There was a long pause.  
  
Then Pete said, "How come none of us has met her?"  
  
"Cause, Petey-boy, I don't want yous to."  
  
There was another long pause. Big Pete wasn't the brightest light in Brooklyn, so it took him those long pauses to think of what to say. "Higgins met her," he finally said.  
  
Spot stopped wiping her cane and looked at Pete. "See, dat's 'cause I trust Higgins. I don't trust none a yous."  
  
Pete smiled stupidly. "Gee, tanks."  
  
Spot shook her head, breathed steam onto a spot of dirt on her cane, and rubbed it clean. Pete was the only newsie that actually sort of intimidated her. He could probably become leader, if he wanted to. He was just too stupid to realize it.  
  
There was a knock on the lodging house door. "Watcher, get dat, would ya?" said Spot, not really interested.  
  
Watcher opened the door to see Jack standing there. "Hey, Cowboy. Wat are you doin' hea?"  
  
"I gotta talk ta Spot." Spot looked up from her throne. 'Dat was quick,' she thought to herself.  
  
"Spot's busy right now. Sorry." Watcher started to close the door on Jack.  
  
Spot stood up. "Watch, cut da crap and let Kelly in." Watcher didn't move. "Hey, jackass, move. Or else," she threatened.  
  
Watcher stood to the side and mockingly tipped his hat to Jack. As Jack passed, Watcher shoved him and slammed the door.  
  
Jack didn't rub his shoulder, even though Watcher had shoved hard. Instead he walked up to Spot and said, "I got anudda message from Race. He says hes gotta talk ta eida you or ya cousin soon. He got important news. He wants one a yous ta meet him at da races tamara."  
  
Spot smiled. She knew it wouldn't be long before Racetrack wanted to see her again. "Tell him one a us'll be dere."  
  
Jack nodded and spit-shook with Spot. On his way to the door, he tripped over Watcher's leg. Watcher smirked, tipped his hat again to Jack, and walked away.  
  
Once Jack was gone, Spot said, "Hey, Watcher, come hea." She boxed his ear, and he winced. "Wat da hell's wrong wid you?"  
  
"Wat? I don' like Kelly."  
  
She twisted his ear painfully, causing him to yelp. "So ya wait till I'm not LOOKIN' to let him know. It seems ya fogot he's me buddy." She gave the ear an extra squeeze, then let go. "Don't foget."  
  
Watcher rubbed his ear and mumbled something. Spot glared then nodded, dismissing him. She returned to her throne.  
  
"Hey, hey hey! Spot! Hey Spot! SPOTSPOTSP-"  
  
"Wat is it, Shrimpy?"  
  
The little boy bounced up and down in front of her. "Hey Spot, how come Watcher don' like Jack? I mean Jack's th' neatest newsie he led th' strike an' all an' he's th' best aside from you a course I mean you lead Brooklyn an' Brooklyn's th' best which makes you th' best-"  
  
Spot listened with raised eyebrows. She was used to Shrimpy's way of talking at you by now, and was waiting for a break in the flow of babble.  
  
"-but Jack's neat anyway an' I mean who wouldn' like him well apparently Watcher don' like him why is dat, Spot?"  
  
"Yous wanna know why Watcher don' like Kelly?" Shrimpy nodded enthusiastically. "Cause he's an asshole. Dat's why."  
  
Shrimpy opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing what to say. Finally, he just said, "Oh," and trotted off to annoy Sneaks. Spot smirked. That was the only way to get rid of Shrimpy. Curse in front of him.  
  
Spot leaned back against her throne and twirled her cane between her fingers. Race had given her a choice there: either meet Race dressed as herself, or go as a girl. Maybe she was looking too deeply into the situation, but she knew Racetrack. He had given her a choice for a REASON. She had only thought he'd have waited a bit longer.  
  
Choosing between going as 'Spot' or going as 'Patricia' might change everything. Obviously Racetrack had found out something about Mush that he wanted to tell her in person. Otherwise he would have just sent a yes or a no through Jack. No, Race had discovered something important.  
  
If Spot met him as Spot Conlon, fearless leader of Brooklyn, then Race would think she was just going to remain his friend, interested in news boys other than himself. If she met him as Patricia, he would be able to figure out she might like him and not be as intimidated to tell her the news. The question was, which one should she pick?  
  
She stopped twirling her cane and sat up straight in her throne. She grinned mischievously, coming to a conclusion.  
  
She knew who she would go as.  
  
******************************  
  
Heh, yeah, I know, I'm evil. But I couldn't help meself. Sorry if that chapter was kind of boring-  
  
Race!Muse: Hey! I ain't in dis chapter!!!  
  
Spot!Muse: And I ain't in dis STORY, but do ya see me complainin?  
  
Race!Muse: Watcha talkin' bout, Spot? Yous one a da main characters!  
  
Spot!Muse: I ain't no GODDAMN goil!!!!!  
  
LK: Well, you are in this story.  
  
Spot!Muse: ::pouts::  
  
Race!Muse: Yous know I love it when yous pout.  
  
Spot!Muse: Dat's why I do it so often.  
  
Race!Muse: Come here, hot ass.  
  
::they run off to a corner::  
  
SORRY bout that, my muses got the better of me (they do that every now and then), so anyway, where was I...Oh yeah!! I wanted to introduce some Brooklyn newsies and make this a cliffhanger. Review and I'll be nice and post the next chapter quicker! I almost finished writing it, so it's up to you when it's posted!!  
  
Much love,  
  
~Liams Kitten~  
  
Race!Muse: Like they didn't know by now. 


	7. Shadows of the Past

A/N: I didn't mean for this chapter to take such a long time. But an unavoidable, horrible uncontrollable force took over. Something that no mortal alive can stop.  
  
That's right. School started.  
  
Believe me, I would much rather sit at home and write this thing than get lost in school. But, rules is rules. I'm not going to be able to update very often, I'm sorry. I'll try for once a week/every other week. I can't promise anything. SOME good is coming out of this evil though. I'll be writing longer chapters, so that's good, right?  
  
Shout-outs:  
  
KLOVER: Thanks, man.  
  
MERP: Heh, you'll find out soon enough...SORRY it took so long  
  
ANGELFISH7: Hey, you made me very happy when you said you'll review every chapter (pathetic, I know, but true nonetheless) YAY ok I'm done.  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: Hey, dude, keep your HP muses outta my newsies. They don't get along well, stupid  
  
COTTON BLOSSOM: Buddy, those were just me muses...I hate them, but love them R!Muse: I hoid dat!  
  
ME: Honestly, I know you're not reading this, but this is a message to future flamers: Be CREATIVE in insulting my works! It's much more enjoyable than just "yuck"  
  
$PELL*: I'm glad you kept reading instead of giving up! Thanks!  
  
Dedication: This chap is dedicated to Angelfish7 for saying she was gonna review every chapter :)  
  
Onward to the story!  
  
**********************  
  
Chapter 7: Shadows of the Past  
  
Racetrack had finished selling his papers and was watching the horse races. He had told himself he wouldn't bet on the horses and would just wait for Spot to come. Yeah, right.  
  
His horse was neck-and-neck with another horse. He was leaning forward in his seat, his ass barely touching the chair, stretched over the person in front of him, oblivious to the man yelling at him for dropping cigar ash on his shirt, screaming, "Run, you fucking bastard! RUN!!"  
  
They were six yards away from the finish line. His horse was in the lead. Then the other was. Then his. It looked like a photo finish. He anxiously awaited the results, chewing on the end of his cigar, practically leaning on top of the man in front of him.  
  
"Fuckin' asshole." Racetrack jumped a foot in the air and ended up in the sooty man's lap. He heard cackling, and looked up to see Spot. The man whose lap Race was sitting in stood up, causing Race to spill onto the floor and Spot to cackle louder. Racetrack stood up, beet-red, and mumbled an apology to the pissed-off, ashy man as he jumped over the bench to his seat.  
  
He glared at Spot. "Da hell's ya problem? I don' even know who won, now!"  
  
Spot raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Wat's MY problem? I got tiad a waitin' foa yous ta come back ta da real woild, dat's wat." She shook her head. "Numba twelve won."  
  
Race grabbed his hat. "Ya shoa, right?  
  
"No, I just said dat foa me own pleasure."  
  
Racetrack whooped with joy. He'd won! And he'd had a lot of money on that horse, too! Without really thinking, he grabbed Spot and kissed her. When he pulled away, Spot had a look of absolute disbelief on her face. That look quickly turned to anger. She snarled and grabbed Race by the collar.  
  
As he was dragged out of and away from the tracks, he yelled, "Hey! I gotta get me money!"  
  
Spot stopped and stared at Race, amazed at his stupidity. She was about ready to kill him, and he had the nerve to say he had to get his money? But, Spot's more sensible side argued, knowing Race, he put all of his money on that horse and wouldn't have anything to buy papes with tomorrow.  
  
Racetrack, thinking Spot was going to murder him, was surprised to find himself in front of the bookie. "Get ya money, quick," she growled, and stalked off to a spot a few feet away.  
  
"What'd ya do to get on Spot's bad side? I wouldn't want to be you right about now," the bookie said to Racetrack as he paid up.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Spot Conlon ova there don' look too happy."  
  
For the first time that day, Race looked at Spot, REALLY looked at her. His heart sunk. He was so positive that Spot would come as Patricia. No wonder she was that angry that Race had kissed her.  
  
Spot stalked back over and grabbed Race by the hair. "Got ya money?"  
  
"Yeah," Race whimpered.  
  
"Then let's go." She not-so-politely yanked him by the hair to the alley they had been in when Racetrack had kissed Spot for the first time. She threw him onto the floor and hissed, "Explain yourself."  
  
He stared up at Spot. She was fingering her cane, eyes glinting dangerously. He gulped. "I, s-see, I..." He cleared his throat nervously. "S-sometimes, when I'm at da races, I get caught up in da moment an' foget where I am. Yous can ask any a da guys, most a dem have been kissed at least once by me...I'm sorry?" he said pitifully.  
  
Spot snorted with derision. She whipped out her cane. "So dat gave yous da right ta kiss ME in front a everyone?!" she roared. She advanced on Racetrack. He curled into a ball, protecting his face with his arms, preparing himself for the blow-  
  
It never came. Racetrack cautiously uncurled himself and looked over at her. She was leaning against the wall, staring off into a space that only she could see. Her eyes were watery with tears.  
  
Race crawled over to her. "Spot? Wat's wrong?"  
  
"I'm sorry Race. I didn' mean to."  
  
"Mean ta wat?" Spot didn't answer. "Wat happened, Spot?"  
  
"It's sometin', Sometin' THEY woulda done."  
  
"'They' who?"  
  
"Me parents."  
  
"Wat?"  
  
"You hoid me." Spot looked at Race. "Me parents would do sometin' like dat."  
  
"Yous wanna tell me about it?" Racetrack asked gently.  
  
"No. But I gotta." Spot sighed, and returned her gaze to that faraway place. "Don' talk till I'm finished." She closed her eyes, thought for a while, nodded to herself, and opened her eyes again.  
  
"When I was born, me mudda an' me fadda din' want me. They had wanted a boy, anudda son ta help 'em get money. They thought a goil was useless 'cept ta have kids. They was gonna trow me inta da streets, 'cept foa me brudda. He was a couple yeas older'n me, and loved me more dan anytin' else. So, they kept me around. They was neva nice ta me. Eva since I can rememba, dey beat me. Me brudda'd stick up foa me wen he could, but he couldn' be everywhere. He woiked durin' the day.  
  
"Me mudda usually jus' yelled at me an' told me ta stay outta her way durin' the day. She'd order me around sometimes an' slap me if I took too long. But me fadda...." Spot closed her eyes, remembering what it used to be like.  
  
"Me fadda woiked durin' the day. He woiked lata dan me brudda. Sometimes he'd come back wen I was asleep. Some nights he was drunk. I wouldn' sleep foa long. Foist he'd drag me outta bed an' yell at me foa a while. Den he'd soak me. He'd soak me so bad sometimes, I couldn' even move. Den he'd jus leave me dere. Some nights, I wished I'd jus die an' get it over with. I fought back nce in a while. Got in a good punch o two. But dat jus' made 'im madder. I was always too weak ta really fight back.  
  
"I don' tink me brudda knew abou' dat in da beginning. He ws pretty young hisself aroun' den. But as he got olda, he noticed tings. Like sometimes I'd moan in pain wen he kissed me goodbye in da mornins. Or how I was so covered in bruises dat some days I couldn' hug him widout screamin'. He didn' say anytin' ta me, dough. As long as he could protect me wen he could, it was good enough foa him.  
  
"One night, me fadda came stormin' inta da house, real pissed. He grabbed me an' started shakin' me, yellin', 'You got me fired! I'm fired, an' it's all YOUR fault! Stupid bitch!' He punched me ribs an' broke a couple bones. Maybe he woulda killed me. But all dat yellin' had woke me brudda up. He slept in da same room as me but slept trough almost anytin'. He saw me fadda really hoitin' me an' me cryin' an' askin' him ta stop, an' he jus got so angry. He grabbed me fadda an' punched him. Knocked out a tooth. Me fadda seemed shocked. Den he jus yelled foa me an' Patrick ta get out. I couldn' move, so Pat picked me up an' carried me away, me fadda screamin' an' trowin' tings. I neva saw eida of me parents since den. I hope dey died," she spat bitterly.  
  
There was a pause. Racetrack said softly, "Is dat it?"  
  
"I ain't done yet." Spot's voice was thick, like she was going to start crying any minute. "Don' interrupt."  
  
~flashback~  
  
A tall, red-haired, green-eyed boy in his late teens was walking down the street. In his arms was a small girl, only about ten, crying and trying not to cry at the same time. The boy stopped at a corner and gently placed the girl on the sidewalk. "can ye stand on yer own, Colleen?" His voice had a thick Irish accent.  
  
The girl nodded miserably, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
He smiled and tweaked her nose. "That's my little lass. Stay here, I have to check something. I'll be right back."  
  
"Ok, Patwick," the little girl said, smiling at her brother. Patrick ruffled her hair, then walked away. Colleen interested herself in a tuft of grass growing through the cobblestones.  
  
"Well, what have we here." Two fifteen-year-olds walked towards her. She scowled at them and continued to pull the grass out of the cracks.  
  
"Aw, where's ya mannas, girly?" the one who'd spoken before said, and both of them walked up to her.  
  
"Same place as yours," Colleen muttered, more to herself than the two boys.  
  
The other boy tutted. "Such a smart mouth foa a young goil. We should change dat, don't you tink?"  
  
"I do indeed, my friend." The taller of the two, who was also the one who had spoken first, reached out to touch her skirt.  
  
"Don't touch me," the little girl growled.  
  
The two boys laughed. "Ya hea that? She thinks she's a little tough thing. Well we just hafta fix that." The taller boy grabbed Colleen and pulled her to her feet.  
  
The second boy began to pull Colleen's shirt off. Colleen screeched, "Patwick! Pat! Help!"  
  
They laughed again. "Aw, she's callin' foa her big bad brudda ta come an' save her. Where's Patty now, huh sweetheart?"  
  
Patrick came running from behind the two boys. He grabbed the one not holding his sister and threw him into a pile of boxes. Tall one dropped Colleen and balled his hands into fists.  
  
"Colleen, run!" yelled Pat, throwing a punch and hitting the person in the jaw. Colleen cowered on the ground, not moving. The second boy grabbed Patrick from behind, choking him. Patrick threw himself onto his back to crush his attacker. "RUN!" he repeated, lunging at the first boy and knocking him onto his back.  
  
Colleen stood up and bolted around the corner. Once there, she changed her mind and crept back and hid behind a pile of boxes to watch the fight.  
  
~present~  
  
Tears were flowing freely down Spot's face now. "Those two asses were clearly no match foa me brudda. He was doin' a good job a beatin' the shit outta the two of 'em. But-" she gave a shuddering sob, "but dose two fuckers din' play fair.  
  
"One a da guys drew me brudda away from da otha one. Wen Pat's back was toined, that motha-fuckin' son of a bitch pulled out a switchblade. He stabbed me brudda in the back." Spot winced as the anguished cry of her brother resonated in her head. She could still see the look of horror on his face as the knife entered his flesh, and the satisfied look on the others' faces as Patrick hit the ground.  
  
Spot rubbed her eyes. "I know if I wasn't a goil, dey wouldn'a bothaed wid me. Jus' like if I was a boy me fadda wouldn'a beat me. An' me brudda'd still be alive." Her voice took on a hysterical pitch. "Me brudda was da only poisen who loved me, an' cared foa me, an' 'cause a dat, he's dead now." She breathed heavily, trying to calm herself down.  
  
When she spoke, her voice was strong and steady. "I had ta prove dos bastards wrong. Even dough I'm a goil, I'm da most feahed leada anywhere. Now anybody in dey're right mind tinks twice before messin' wid Spot Conlon."  
  
Spot looked over at Race and was relieved to see his face was expressionless. If he'd looked like he pitied her, she probably would have soaked him. She couldn't stand getting sympathy from people. But, Race knew that about her.  
  
There was a moment of comfortable silence. Racetrack lit a cigar he'd swiped from the man he'd fallen on. Spot and Race's eyes met, and their gazes held. They unknowingly crept slowly towards each other until their mouths were mere inches apart.  
  
Spot seemed to realize what she was about to do, so to cover up for it she grabbed Race's cigar and stuck it in her mouth.  
  
Race was very disappointed. He was about to get a kiss from her that SHE actually agreed to, too. But she chickened out. 'Goddamnit, why couldn't she just kiss me?' he thought, perturbed. 'I mean, there's no way in hell that was just some sort of weird, twisted trick. Nobody could fake that look of longing.' The eyes were always the hardest to control.  
  
But she likes Mush, doesn't she? Remembering the whole reason he had wanted to meet Spot in the first place, he turned to tell Spot about what he'd found out.  
  
She wasn't there. Race looked wildly around the alley, then ran out and stared down the street. He saw Spot's retreating figure. Overcome with irritation, he slammed his fist into the wall and let out an indistinguishable moan. Spot stopped walking for a moment, but didn't turn around, and continued on to her lodging house.  
  
Not caring who was staring, Racetrack whirled around and ran back to Manhattan. He tried to outrun his troubles, but found he couldn't. When he reached Kloppman's, instead of going in, he sat in front of the door and cried, tears of frustration pouring down his face.  
  
***********************  
  
O.o I did NOT at all mean for it to end like that. My stupid Specs!Muse took over and made me do it. Don't blame ME if you don't like it, blame HIM. Honestly, I had a happy little ending planned out, but then he took over.  
  
There's a lot of OOC-ness in this chapter: that's because for Spot, Patrick was the only person who REALLY cared about her, and for Race, well love makes people do strange things. And sorry if the chap kinda sounded Mary- Sueish  
  
Review and I'll be incredibly pleased. And to make me pleased even more so, make your reviews creative because then that makes my better muses come out and Specs!Muse goes back to making out with Dutchy!Muse. Odd request, I agree, but it'd make me REAL happy.  
  
Enough of my brainless rantings that you care not about, see you later! ::kills Specs!Muse::  
  
Much love,  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	8. Finally Coming Clean

A/N: This chapter took longer than expected, oh well. I like this chapter :) So should you.  
  
Shout-outs!  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: You're psychotic and mental, but then again you're related to me so what can you expect? Heh, Fes :P  
  
COTTON BLOSSOM: Happy Jewish holidays that've passed! Yep, buddy.  
  
ANGELFISH7: Thanks for complimenting my story so much! It's honored, as am I. And Spot would be too, if he accepted the fact that I made him a girl  
  
Spot!Muse: ::growls::  
  
KLOVER: Thanks. Yep.  
  
POISONOUS: Hey, thanks, sorry you're going through withdrawal, but, you're part of the reason I took so long in posting :) We've got a special guest to do something special for you. Ready guys?  
  
R!Muse: We're ready.  
  
AllMusesAlannaandBoots: Happy  
  
Boots: Somewhat late  
  
AllMusesAlannaandBoots: Birthday to you! Happy  
  
Boots: Somewhat late  
  
AllMusesAlannaandBoots: Birthday To you! Happy  
  
Boots: Somewhat late  
  
AllMusesAlannaandBoots: BIRTHDAY Dear SARAH!!!!!! Happy  
  
Boots: Somewhat late  
  
AllMusesAlannaandBoots: BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Boots: And mannnnnny moore!!!!!! ::gives Sarah a rose::  
  
LK: Nicely done, Boots. You can go now.  
  
D!Muse: Hey, how come HE can go?  
  
LK: Cause he's not a Muse.  
  
Boots: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!  
  
Dedication: Chapter dedicated to Sarah since it was her birthday :D  
  
*****************************  
  
Chapter 8: Finally Coming Clean  
  
Everyone at the Manhattan lodging house was just hanging out after a day of bad headlines. Several were involved in a poker game where Racetrack was losing all of his money.  
  
"Damn it."  
  
"Race, wat's eatin' you?" Jack asked as he collected his winnings from the others.  
  
"Nothin'."  
  
The game went on. Dutchy called one of Race's bluffs. Racetrack's jaw dropped open. "How da hell did yous know dat?" he asked in astonishment.  
  
Dutchy shrugged. "It was written on ya face."  
  
Race shook his head. "I'm out," he said, pushing his chair back. There was a collective gasp.  
  
"Yous NEVA bail outta a game, Race!" Snipeshooter said.  
  
"Yeah, well, dere's a foist time fa everythin'." He walked over to a couch and plopped down. He dug through his pockets, looking for a cigar, only to find he didn't have one. "Shiiiiiiit."  
  
Someone stuck a cigar into his vision. He looked up to see Jack holding it out to him. "Tanks," he murmured and stuck it in his mouth.  
  
"Wat's up, Race?"  
  
"Da ceilin'."  
  
"Wat's wrong?"  
  
"Dat's a matta of opinion."  
  
"What's the matta?"  
  
"Wat's a matta wich you?"  
  
"Race!"  
  
"Jack!"  
  
Jack was about to say something else, when somebody knocked on the door. The room went silent. Nobody ever knocked on the door. They just waltzed in and made themselves at home. A murmur went up around the room.  
  
"Who would knock?"  
  
"Maybe da bulls?"  
  
"Why would da bulls KNOCK?"  
  
"Wat do we do?"  
  
A second, louder knock made them stop talking and look at the door again.  
  
"Mush, go get the door," Jack commanded.  
  
Mush's eyes widened. "Why me?" he asked, sounding pathetic and scared.  
  
"Jus' do it, Mush."  
  
"Go on, Mushee, it's not dat bad," Blink said, kissing Mush on the forehead and causing several boys to go "aw."  
  
""I don' see yous volunteerin'."  
  
"Come on, Mush."  
  
Mush was about to protest when, for the third time, the door was knocked on. It sounded like the person had started to lose their patience. Reluctantly, Mush got up and walked over to the door. Everyone waited with baited breath. He slowly opened the door.  
  
He did a double-take when he saw the person on the other side of the door. If it wasn't for the fact that she had red hair and was *obviously* a girl, he'd swear he was staring at Spot Conlon. "Uh, c-can I help yous?"  
  
She smiled at him. "I was wonderin' if I could speak with Racetrack Higgins," she said. She had an incredibly thick Irish accent.  
  
"Yeah, shoa. Um, are you Spot's cousin? Patricia?"  
  
Her smile grew. "I am, lad," she said. He couldn't help but smile when she said, "And ye, of course, are Mush Meyers, ye adorable little lad."  
  
He let her in. "Racetrack, somebody's hea ta see yous."  
  
Racetrack was gawking at Spot. Everyone else in the room was focusing their attention on the two of them.  
  
"Didn't anyone ever tell ye it's not polite to stare?" Spot said simply, waiting for Racetrack to find his voice.  
  
He swallowed and stammered out a "H-hello..."  
  
He smiled sweetly at him and said, "I wanted to talk with ye, if that's all right with yer friends." She winked at him. He blushed, nodded, and motioned for her to sit on a couch with him.  
  
"I was actually hoping for a more...PRIVATE place, if you know what I mean," she said, winking again. A few of the newsboys made cat-calls and whistled.  
  
Racetrack blushed deeper but nodded. He placed Jack's cigar in his mouth, took hold of Spot's elbow and led her up the stairs to the bedroom. At the top he called down, "Don' distoib us unless ya wanna see sometin' ya'd regret foa da rest a ya life!"  
  
"Wat da hell does DAT mean?" Skittery asked irritably.  
  
"Tink about it, Skitts," Jack said over the laughter.  
  
Skittery's face scrunched up in thought, then stretched into a horrified look. "Oh! Ew, too much!" He shuddered convulsively.  
  
"Oh, stop bein' a baby," Jack said, pushing Skittery off of the couch and onto the floor. "Like nobody else has done dat in dere before." When all Jack got from Skitts was another disgusted look, Jack said, "Geez, yous really are glum AND dumb!"  
  
*****************************  
  
"Yous can do a Irish accent?" Race asked, sitting on his bed. Spot sat on the one across from him.  
  
"Well I DID live wid tree people who had Irish accents AND I also loined how ta talk from dem, so maybe da real question is, 'yous can do a Brooklyn accent?'"  
  
Racetrack rolled his eyes as Spot. She grabbed his cigar out of his mouth, put it out, and chucked it out the window.  
  
"Wat da hell was dat?" Race asked, running to the window to watch his cigar get run over by a carriage.  
  
She shrugged. "I always wanted ta do dat. So, wat'd ya mean by 'don' come up hea'?"  
  
Racetrack raised an eyebrow. Why does she care? "I jus' needed a a way ta keep 'em away from hea. Why?"  
  
Spot glared at him. She didn't answer. Racetrack pulled his harmonica out of his pocket and began to flip it in the air and catch it, a habit he had sometimes to calm his nerves. He was preparing himself to speak.  
  
Flip, catch. Flip, catch.  
  
"So, wat did yous come hea ta talk ta me about?"  
  
Flip, catch. Flip, catch.  
  
"I figured you'd forgotten ta tell me somethin' dis aftanoon."  
  
"Oh yeah. Mush ain't single. He got Blink."  
  
Flip, catch.  
  
"Took him long enough."  
  
Near-miss that time.  
  
"Wat?"  
  
"I said, it took Mush and Blink long enough ta get tagedda."  
  
"So...you knew?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
Faster now. Flip-catch, flip-catch.  
  
"But din' yous say you like him?"  
  
Flip-catch.  
  
"Oh shoa, I LIKE Mush." She leaned in close. "But you know wat?"  
  
Race shook his head.  
  
"I LOVE yous."  
  
CRASH  
  
Racetrack's jaw hit the floor along with his harmonica. "WAT?!"  
  
"Ya know, Race, ya really should get ya hearin' checked."  
  
"Bu-but ya ...and...uh..." he stammered. Spot raised her eyebrows. He gulped. "So...so, uh, yeah, um...why?"  
  
Spot stared at Race like he had completely lost his mind. Race felt his face burn, and he murmured, "F-fahget it." Spot held up a hand and said, "No, you desoive ta know."  
  
She cocked her head to one side and said, "Da foist day yous joined da Brooklyn newsies I liked yous. I could neva tell yous since, ya know, ya thought I was a boy. Maybe I woulda told ya evenchally, but den ya left Brooklyn ta be a newsie foa Jackie-boy. I don' know WHY ya left Brooklyn. But I guess yous can say the past few days have been sorta 'payback'." She grinned impishly at him.  
  
His mouth still hung open. She had LIKED him, and yet she'd DONE that to him?!  
  
"Bu-but....But..."  
  
"Come on, Racey, form a sentence. Ain't dat hard."  
  
"But you...uh but yous...an-" His babble was cut off when Spot pressed her lips against his. His eyes widened in surprise, then closed as the kiss became more passionate.  
  
He pulled off her wig and tangled his fingers in her hair. She began to pull his suspenders off of his shoulders. He stopped kissing her for a minute and raised an eyebrow. She smirked mischievously at him and pulled him onto his bed. They continued kissing, unclothing each other.  
  
Race stopped suddenly and said, "Wait, I wanna know somethin'!"  
  
"Oh, NOW you can talk?"  
  
"Wat's ya real name?"  
  
"Well, TONY," the Irish accent came back, "it's Colleen."  
  
He grinned at her and whispered, "I love ya, Colleen."  
  
They resumed their kissing. After a while, though, they were doing a lot more than just kissing.  
  
*****************************  
  
Back in the common area, Mush was sitting on a chair, gnawing on a thumbnail. His brow was furrowed in thought.  
  
"Hey, watcha thinkin' 'bout?" Blink asked, walking over and sitting on Mush's lap.  
  
"Hm? Oh, nothin'."  
  
"Liar. Wat is it?"  
  
Mush spat out the piece of nail he'd been chewing. He looked around to make sure nobody was listening, then said softly, "Did ya happen ta notice anytin'...ODD about Spot's cousin?"  
  
"Ya mean aside from da fact dat she looks like Spot wid breasts? No, not really."  
  
"So it's not just me." Mush sat up straighter in the chair. "Did yous see wat she had around her waist?"  
  
"Why was yous lookin' at her waist, Mushee?"  
  
Mush lightly smacked Blink. "Be serious hea, Kid!"  
  
"Okay, sorry. I, unlike some people, didn't stare at Patricia's waist long enough ta see wat she had around it. But my guess is, like most goils, she had a stringlike ting ta hold her skirt up."  
  
Mush shook his head. "Dat's wat I tought. But I don' tink so. I tink I saw sometin' shine off a dem. Sometin' metally." She let that sink in, then said carefully, "Wat color was da sash? An' wat color suspenders does Spot wear?"  
  
Blink's eye widened as a look of comprehension crossed his face. "So wat're yous sayin'? Spot an' Patricia is da same poisen?"  
  
"Dat's wat it seems like. But it can't be right? 'Cause Spot ain't a goil. An' Patricia ain't a boy. But maybe one is both. Well not both, but yous know wat I mean. But dat ain't possible...is it?"  
  
"Did anyone eva tell you how cute ya get when yous is confused?"  
  
"BLINK! Come on, wat do yous tink?"  
  
"Um...I really don' know, Mush."  
  
Mush's forehead wrinkled even more. Blink shifted his weight on Mush to get more comfortable. Mush winced in pain and said, "Oh god. Blink, you're crushing my legs."  
  
"You just now realize I'm sittin' on yous?"  
  
"Ah, get off."  
  
"Nah, I kinda like it hea." Blink picked his feet up off the floor and centered his weight in the middle of Mush's legs.  
  
"Hey, I warned yous." That said, Mush shoved Blink off of his lap and onto the floor.  
  
"Ow, Musheee, dat hoit!" Blink said, trying to sound angry but failing miserably since they both began laughing. Blink was lying flat on the floor, trying to catch his breath, while Mush curled himself up in the chair and giggled. All of a sudden, though, Blink stopped laughing and sat up. "Mush!"  
  
"Wat is it, Blink?"  
  
The excitement on Blink's face grew. "Oh my God, Mush!"  
  
"Wat?"  
  
"MUSH! MUSH! MUSH!"  
  
"WAT!?!"  
  
Blink was shaking excitedly and he leaned in close to Mush. "A while ago, I tink two weeks or somethin', I seen Race wid some goil in dis alley. Dey was kissin' an' I remember only seein' da back a her head but she had really short hair and was short herself. And," he said, cutting off Mush who seemed about to say something, "when I asked him who she was after, d'ya know wat he said? 'An old friend'."  
  
Mush leaned closer. "Blink, yous a genius!"  
  
He smiled. "Yeah, I know. Wat should we do about it, though?"  
  
"Do about wat?"  
  
"Knowing dat Spot ain't a guy."  
  
"Shh. Don' say dat hea. Sombody might hea yous." Mush seemed anxious all of a sudden. "Besides, we don' know foa shoa. Maybe it ain't even true."  
  
Blink's excitement left him. "But, but why Mushee? Don' ya wanna find out?"  
  
"I tink it'd be betta if we found out a little moa before we did anytin'."  
  
Blink sighed. "Aright, Mush. But only cause I love ya."  
  
*****************************  
  
A/N: That was fun. Really it was. Did anyone ever notice how SHORT Kid is?  
  
And now I need your opinion on something.  
  
Spot!Muse: Don' do it, Alanna!  
  
LK: Fine, I won't. Racetrack!  
  
R!Muse: Yes?  
  
::LK whispers into his ear::  
  
R!Muse: ::smiling evilly:: Why shoa, Alanna. I'd be honored.  
  
Spot!Muse: RACE DON' DO IT!  
  
R!Muse: Da story has reached a crossin' point. It can go one of two ways. One way is more borin' dan th' otha  
  
Spot!Muse: PICK DAT ONE!  
  
R!Muse: But da otha way Alanna would be doin' sometin' she feels is unfogivable.  
  
Spot!Muse: DON' PICK DAT ONE!!!  
  
R!Muse: Please review an' express which one ya'd radda read. An' if ya pick da second one, be willin' ta fogive Alanna. Kay? ::beams:: Tanks!  
  
LK: Isn't he adorable? So you heard him, tell me which way you want the story to go, the way Spot wants it or the better way. I may or may not listen to you, depending on how the way you reviewers pick ends up.  
  
Much love,  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	9. Conspiracies

A/N: Lookit me!!! I didn't die!!! I've just been massively busy and stuff. Sorry it took so long!!  
  
This chapter's a tad on the boring side, and you don't find out which path I chose, but I promise you will in the next chapter.  
  
Shout-outs!  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: Hermione, you know you want it =D Why do they keep coming into Newsies reviews? Don't they know the difference?! Love you too hon (D!Muse: HARRY POTTER IS A PENIS heheheeheheheeheheheheeheheheheeheheheheee)  
  
SPECSGLASSES: You are one insane bugger. Indeed you are. (Spot!Muse: I AIN'T NO GOIL!!!) We've been through this hon, you ARE in THIS story. (Dutcholala!Muse: Oh, I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay!)  
  
Dude, there aren't supposed to be spaces. It's IrishAccentFemale!Spot dude! Pfft, Coupling is a stupid show, my muses are playing Twister, and the chickens are restless ^_^  
  
SATURDAY: Heh, sorry you didn't really understand what I wanted your opinion on...(Spot!Muse: No she ain't. She did dat on purpose so people'd pick da one I don' like. Cause she likes ta torture me.) Well it worked, didn't it? Thanks for reviewing!  
  
SARAH: Hiya! Well, nobody dies the more important way...but something people won't like DOES happen! Hehe, thanks for the review sweetheart! Don't kill me cause it took such a long time...  
  
NAKAIA AIDAN-SUN: Lol, you seem very certain with your decision...(Spot!Muse: Why do people love ta torture me?!) Cause it's so much fun, DUH! (Spot!Muse: o.o) (R!Muse: Dey're right, it is.) (Spot!Muse: Sleep wid one eye open, ALLA YOUS!!!) Thanks a bunch for reviewing! Update that truth or dare story soon pwease!!!!!  
  
COTTON BLOSSOM: ::tackles:: I love you bunches, sweetie! YAY my story made your family think you were crazy ^_^ We gotta se LOTR together buddy, indeed we do! And you must get the DVD thingy! LOVE YOU!!!!  
  
$PELL*: I'm very glad you liked that chapter. Lol, your review rocks, thanks and I hope you like this chapter!  
  
And now on with the show!!!  
  
*****************************  
  
Chapter 9: Conspiracies  
  
Race woke up on top of Spot's sleeping body. He lay there, listening to the sound of her breathing for a few moments. She shifted under him and opened an eye slowly.  
  
"Mornin'," Race said, shifting so he was lying alongside Spot instead of resting his weight on top of her.  
  
She grunted and shut her eye again. "No wonder I dreamed about an elephant sittin' on top a me," she grumbled.  
  
"Ya so kind ta me."  
  
"Yeah, yous know I love you." Her voice was muffled by the pillow.  
  
"How can I be shoa?"  
  
Spot picked her head up to look at Race. "Are yous kiddin' me? Honestly Race, why else would I have done dat?"  
  
"Hey! Dat's insultin'!"  
  
"Yeah, well, too bad."  
  
"You don' love me," he accused.  
  
"Ya want me ta prove it again?"  
  
"I wouldn't mind. Wait, wat time is it?" Race propped himself up to check the clock on the wall. "Fuckin' hell!"  
  
"Wat is it now?"  
  
"It's six a clock in da mornin'!"  
  
"...so?"  
  
"So don' yous tink da guys'll be suspicious?"  
  
"...yours o mine?"  
  
"Now dat ya mention it, BOTH!"  
  
Spot shrugged. "My boys know betta dan ta question wat I do. An' I'm shoa da Manhattan guys figured out we was doin' sometin' since dey ain't in hea." She stood up and stretched. Race was staring at her.  
  
"Ya beautiful," he sighed, love shining in his eyes.  
  
She turned to face Racetrack, a smile playing on her lips. "An' yous a hot, sexy Italian gambler." She leaned in as though to kiss him, but stopped mere inches away. "But, dere's papes ta sell, places ta go, people ta-" Race's lips cut her off.  
  
When they pulled apart, Spot smirked and tweaked Race's nose. "As much as I'd like ta continue, I really should be goin' back ta Brooklyn. An' you still need to sell papes, don'cha?" She got dressed quickly, hugged Race and received a kiss on the nose from him, then swiftly climbed out the window.  
  
Racetrack stood by the window and watched her go. He then got dressed himself, and opened the door to go downstairs.  
  
There was a loud "thud" and someone said "Ow!". Race slipped out the door and closed it quickly. A half-awake Mush lay there, rubbing his head.  
  
Random newsboys were scattered throughout the common area. Dutchy and Itey were sprawled along the staircase, and Specs was lying on top of Kloppman's desk. Jack, Crutchy, and Bumlets were lucky enough to be on the couches, while Skittery crammed himself into the only cushioned chair. The rest were sleeping on the floor.  
  
They had begun to stir when Mush cried out. Someone muttered, "ten moa minutes." Specs shifted positions so that he was dangling over the side of the desk. No one actually woke up though.  
  
Grinning evilly to himself, Racetrack reached down and pulled Mush to his feet.  
  
"Go get washed up," Race told him. "I'll wake up da oddas."  
  
Mush mumbled a reply and half fell into the bedroom to the washroom.  
  
Racetrack stood at the top of the staircase, filled his lungs with air, and bellowed as loudly as he could, "FIRE! Fire in da lodgin' house, come on WAKE UP!!!"  
  
The resulting chaos was satisfying. Dutchy shot up at the sound of Race's voice and proceeded to roll down the stairs, bringing Itey down with him. Specs slid off the desk onto his head and Jack shot off the couch, unknowingly standing on Blink's chest.  
  
"Where's da fire?" he called, trying to open his eyes without them rolling back into his head.  
  
Race just grinned and shrugged. "We's aready late foa getting' papes, so I tought I should wake yous up." He took off down the stairs, being careful to step on as many boys as he could before charging toward the distribution center, a nearly naked Jack following and screaming for him to "get back here so I could soak yous properly!"  
  
*****************************  
  
In Brooklyn, Watcher and another newsboy named Blood watched as their leader came waltzing in as though he hadn't been gone all night. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, coming back late or just disappearing without acknowledging the others.  
  
"Somethin's up," Watcher mumbled to Blood, eyeing Spot with distaste. "I bet da othas have noticed it too."  
  
"Yeah? So wat're we supposed ta do about it?"  
  
Watcher made sure Spot wasn't listening, then leaned in close and whispered, "I say we organize a secret little meeting. Tanight."  
  
"How do we keep Spot from finding out, dough?"  
  
Watcher leaned back to think. At that moment, Shrimpy hopped over to them. "Hey guys, wat's up, wat're you talkin' about?"  
  
Watcher and Blood looked from each other to Shrimpy and back again. Their faces split into identical grins.  
  
Shrimpy shifted uncomfortably. "Hey...wat're you smilin' about?"  
  
Blood put an arm around the younger boy. "Shrimpy buddy, we got a special job foa yous."  
  
"Oh boy, really, wat is it?" Shrimpy perked up immediately.  
  
Watcher put his arm on the other side of the boy. "Yous gotta keep Spot busy foa us tonight. But yous can' let him know it. Got dat?"  
  
Shrimpy looked confused and slowly said, "Noooo..."  
  
Blood realizing Shrimpy was too stupid to understand the concept, said "Spot's gonna take yous to da park, okay?"  
  
Shrimpy's face brightened. "Oh boy really? Wat're we waitin' foa, let's go, why haven't we left yet?"  
  
"But Shrimpo," Blood said, tightening his grip on the boy. "Make shoa yous don' come back till late tonight, kay buddy?"  
  
"Do we even hafta come back?" Shrimpy asked, fidgeting impatiently.  
  
Watcher laughed. "Atta boy." He took Shrimpy's hand and said, "Now let's go find Spot." Turning to Blood, he added, "Tell everyone ta meet us in da lodgin' house once dey're done sellin'."  
  
He and Shrimpy took off in search of Spot. Finally they found her walking away from the distribution center carrying a stack of newspapers. The whole time they had been looking for her, Shrimpy didn't shut up about how he loved the park and how he hadn't been to the park for a long time and about once when he was at the park he saw a squirrel but it ran away.  
  
"Hey Spot!" Watcher called out. She stopped walking and raised an eyebrow at the pair. They caught up to her. "Somebody told this kid that you'd take him to the park."  
  
Spot cursed to herself but physically her bored expression didn't change. "Excuse me? Who told him dat?"  
  
Shrimpy started to answer, but Watcher quickly said, "How am I supposed ta know?" He shrugged indifferently. "Hey, yous don' gotta take him if yous don' wanna."  
  
The little boy gasped indignantly. "But yous said...but...but..." His lower lip jutted out and began trembling. "I WANNA GO TA DA PARK!" he wailed.  
  
Spot shook her head. "Shrimpy, shut up," she snapped. "Nobody said I wasn't gonna take yous." To Watcher she said, "Find out who told him about da park." She grabbed Shrimp's hand and walked away with him.  
  
Watcher watched their retreating backs with satisfaction, then ran toward the lodging house to wait for the others to finish selling. *****************************  
  
"Wat're we doin' hea, Blood?"  
  
Almost all of the Brooklyn newsies were there, sitting around and waiting. Some of them had started getting restless, since all Blood told them was Watcher had something important to say.  
  
"You gotta wait foa Watcher ta come bafoa yous find out."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm tired a waitin'." The speaker was Cracker, a pudgy tall newsboy.  
  
"Where is he, anyway?" Sneaks asked.  
  
"He ain't HEA. Now shaddup an' be patient!"  
  
"Dey givin' yous trouble?" Watcher asked, closing the door behind him as he walked toward Blood.  
  
"Took yous long enough ta get hea," Blood muttered, standing aside so Watcher was the focus of everyone's attention.  
  
Watcher stared at Blood for a moment before smiling and clapping him on the shoulder. "So, since yous're all hea, I'm shoa Blood filled yous in about wat's goin' on-"  
  
"No, he didn'," someone called out.  
  
Watcher's head snapped toward Blood, his eyebrows raised. Blood stared stonily back at him, so Watcher just chuckled and shook his head. "Well den, me an' Blood hea have noticed a couple things our leader has been doin' dat seem a bit suspicious."  
  
"Wat're yous talkin' about, Watch?" Sneaks said. There were several other similar questions, and some boys seemed downright confused.  
  
"Oh, foa fuck's sake, don' pretend yous don' notice," Blood said, rolling his eyes. "He's barely hea anymoa, he seems moa interested in Manhattan dan Brooklyn, an' just last night he didn' come home at all."  
  
"Dat ain' true!"  
  
"Fuck, Sneaks, yous know it is," said Blood. "No matta how much yous don' wanna admit it, yous know its true."  
  
"Guys!" Watcher shouted over the rising din. "Whetha yous guys like it or not, Spot's been actin' moa loyal ta Manhattan dan Brooklyn lately."  
  
"Yous jus' sayin' dat cause a wat Spot did afta yous was mean ta Kelly, Watch."  
  
"I'm sayin' it cause it's true, Puck." Watcher licked his lips nervously. He hadn't thought it would be this difficult to convince some of them that Spot was up to something.  
  
"An' wat's up wid Spot's cousin?" Everyone turned to look at Big Pete. "I mean, Higgins has seen hoir, but we haven't."  
  
"Yeah, dat's right! How do you explain dat one, Sneaks?" Watcher said, feeling confident he had the upper hand again.  
  
Unfortunately, he thought correctly. Sneaks just stared at him. Murmurs of doubt began to spread through the crowd.  
  
"Spot's up ta sometin'. It may have sometin' ta do wid his cousin, or he may have just decided Cowboy's moa important ta him dan we are. Whatever it is, I say we find out."  
  
A cheer was raised, and Blood began to chant, "Watch! Watch! Watch!" Everyone in there took up the chant.  
  
Almost everyone. Sneaks, Puck, and a handful of others just sat there, waiting for the din to die down. Once everyone quieted, Sneaks spoke up.  
  
"Watcher, you realize yous is speakin' treason? Dat if Spot eva finds out, yous can get kicked outta hea?" Watcher began to react, but Sneaks continued. "Wat yous're sayin', about Spot bein' in Manhattan moa dan Brooklyn, yous got nothin' ta base it on. Just your suspicions."  
  
Blood glared at Sneaks and answered for Watcher. "Listen, Sneaks, how do you suppose Spot'll find out about our little meetin'? Da only way he might, is if one a us TOLD him. Now are any of yous plannin' on tellin' Spot?" The question was directed to the group. None of them moved. "Good." Blood put his face right in front of Sneaks'. "Are you plannin' on tellin' Spotty about our meetin'?"  
  
The tension in the air was thick as Sneaks and Blood stared each other down. Blood took Sneaks silence as a "no", so he said, "I didn't tink so." He straightened up, and nodded at Watcher.  
  
"Right. So, whedda or not Spot really is up ta sometin', I say we's find out. Yous gotta make shoa he neva leaves none a yous' sights. Make shoa dere's somebody followin' him, whedda he's goin' ta Manhattan or Harlem, Queens, wherever. Just don' lose him. An' report anytin' suspicious ta eida me or Blood. We gotta find out wat's goin' on."  
  
There was a loud silence. Then, for the second time, Blood began the chant.  
  
"Watch! Watch! Watch!"  
  
Even the handful that hadn't been cheering before began this time. Puck was screaming and, after a nudge in the side from Puck, Sneaks took up the cry.  
  
*****************************  
  
A/N: That was a boring chapter. The next one's more fun, I promise you. Bleh, I don't like this one...  
  
Review please! I'll love you forever.  
  
Much love and hobbitses,  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	10. Contemplations

A/N: Er...hi! I've been a baaaad little author, I know. Just a few notes before we get started:  
  
::gets down on both knees:: Please accept my sincerest apologies on taking such a long time with this chapter, school had succeeded in taking over the creative part of my mind for quite a while leaving me stupid in writing my fanfiction.  
  
Also, this chapter is not the fun chapter I promised. That chapter comes AFTER this one. So I leave you with another boring chapter. I am sorry. ::stands up, dusts off knees:: Urgh, that's the most humility I've shown in a long time.  
  
And now the moment you've all been waiting for...the shoutouts! =P  
  
KLOVER: No need to apologize for not reviewing, I understand COMPLETELY. ::hands flowers:: cause you rock my socks.  
  
NAKIA AIDEN SUN: Are you dead? Cause you haven't been updating, or reviewing anything of anybody's. WHERE'S MY LOVE BUNNY? And when do I not want Itey to die? I mean, come on now. ::hugs tightly::  
  
SPOTLOVER421: Heehee, why is it I never listen when people tell me to update soon? YAYness, you reviewed, ::glomps with joy:: Hope you like. Sorry bout the wait.  
  
ANGELOFMUSIC2: ::gets gun and shoots all your HP muses:: For the last time, keep them OUTTA my story reviews! (R!Muse: WTF is up wid dese weird ass people from a book? Are we from a book? No. So keep em AWAY!!!!!) Race don't like em much either, SEE?!?! Big sisser. Loser monkey brain. =P ::pulls nose:: Hahahaha, whacha gonna do about it, punk?!  
  
SPOTSSHADOW24: Eep, I LOVE YOU! Your review was like, a full-length novel practically! Okay, I exaggerate, but you get the general idea. How do YOU know I like LOTR? Are you STALKING me? . Meh, I love you and your many reviews.  
  
SPECSGLASSES: AHHH you can't read this yet. HURRY UP AND GET BETTER, monkey bottom! I'm a drinking song...::clings:: loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou And don't review when you're drunk. Stupid =P I lurrrrrve you. GET BETTER RIGHT NOW! Cometh forth from thine hospital- prison. Bleh. (Spot!Muse: ::mutters:: Shes making me do this...::hands a nice teddy bear with a sign saying "you made it home alive") Since you WILL be reading this when you're back at home. Which had better be soon.  
  
SPOTSSHADOW24: Again. I forgot if I told you already, whether or not I'm gonna kill Spot. I think I told you I wasn't, but I think I mighta lied and said I was just to see you hyperventilate. Or maybe I didn't tell you anything and just gave it away. ^_^ Chances are, our favorite newsie will remain alive. But I am subject to change my mind. And you definitely are in the running to be my top #1 fan.  
  
$PELL*: Yeaah, last chapter was boring, this chapter is boring, life is boring. I promise, NEXT chapter makes up for it. You might not exactly like it, but it's anything but boring. ::gives cookies:: Love you!  
  
Dedication: For Lily my love, if you didn't tell me how good it was and that I needed to update, I prolly still wouldn'ta. And also for Alarice, my other love, get better or else I'll kill you.  
  
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Chapter 10: Contemplations  
  
Sneaks sat on his bed, thinking. It was almost two months since Watcher and Blood planted seeds of doubt in the Brooklyn boys' minds. They began sending out scouts to follow Spot across the bridge to see what she was up to, but the scouts always ended up losing her before they found out. Blood claimed someone had told her about the meeting and was ready to kill anyone still loyal to Spot, but Watcher calmed him down by telling him Spot was smart enough to realize he was being followed.  
  
Now they were going to take more drastic actions. Blood was planning on following Spot himself. All of the boys knew that Blood wouldn't give up on his stalking or lose him, and the same excitement they had after the big meeting returned.  
  
No matter what Spot was up to, Sneaks still thought it was none of their business, and if Spot wanted to let them know she'd tell them. Sneaks wanted to warn her about it. The only thing holding him back was his fear of what Blood and Watcher would do to him if they heard he'd told Spot.  
  
Still having this internal battle, he heard two people enter the sleeping quarters and close the door gently behind them. Sneaks pulled his legs up and laid flat on his bed so he could spy on the people without them seeing him. Hey, he didn't get the name "Sneaks" for nothing.  
  
"You shoa nobody's hea?" Sneaks recognized Watcher's voice. He could hear Watcher walking through the dormitory, checking the beds to make sure they were empty.  
  
"Calm down. Everyone's still out sellin' or at Mondy's gettin' sloshed." The cold, harsh voice was that of Blood. Watcher stopped his search of the beds.  
  
"So, when are yous gonna follow Spot ta Manhattan?"  
  
"Next time I sees him, I follow him."  
  
Watcher's footsteps could be heard moving toward the place where Blood's voice was coming from. "Hey, just in case yous run inta any trouble, I got dis foa ya." Sneaks heard fabric rustling, and Blood chuckled.  
  
"Watch, yous worry too much. I don' tink I need dat jus' ta follow Spot."  
  
"Yeah, I know, but take it anyway. Maybe yous could do us all a fava and do Spot in, in case he's up ta sometin' tricky." Sneaks' blood ran cold. He carefully raised his head in time to see Blood slip a knife into his belt. He quickly lay flat again.  
  
"It's cute, da way yous worry 'bout me."  
  
"Shut up," Watcher muttered, sounding embarrassed.  
  
"Nah, I like it when yous blush." A noise followed, a noise that seemed very familiar...but couldn't be...  
  
Sneaks picked his head up and muffled a gasp. Watcher and Blood's lips were locked together, their hands traveling along each others' bodies.  
  
Blood stopped unbuttoning Watcher's shirt when Big Pete's voice echoed up from downstairs. Smiling slyly, Watcher pulled Blood into the washroom and locked the door behind him.  
  
Sneaks jumped lightly off of the bunk and ran down to the common area. Not seeing Spot with them, he grabbed Cracker by the front of his shirt. "Where's Spot?" he demanded, shaking Cracker for emphasis.  
  
Cracker pulled his shirt free. "I dunno, he didn' come ta da bar wid us. He said he was coming hea. Did he lie to us again?" Cracker's eyes glinted excitedly at the prospect of having another thing to hold against Spot.  
  
"No, no, prolly not." Sneaks went on, doing his best to cover up for Spot. "I mean, he's prolly in da bedroom or upstairs somewhea."  
  
Cracker narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Yous wouldn' be covering up for him, wouldja, Sneaks?"  
  
"No, a 'course not. I'm jus' pretty shoa I seen him go upstairs." Before Cracker answered, Sneaks made his way up the stairs. He hurried past the bedroom door and found himself at the foot of a second staircase, one he'd probably noticed before but never thought much about.  
  
He reached the third floor. At the end of a hallway, there was a door that stood slightly ajar. Carefully, he opened the door the rest of the way and slipped inside when he saw Spot standing there.  
  
She didn't seem to notice his entrance. She was standing in front of a mirror, holding her shirt up and staring at her stomach. Sneaks cleared his throat.  
  
"Uh...Spot?"  
  
Spot whirled around, pulling down her shirt and yanking out her cane in one smooth motion. Seeing Sneaks standing there, she lowered her cane and barked, "Whaddya want?"  
  
"Um, Spot, I just had sometin' ta tell yous-"  
  
"So tell me."  
  
Sneaks shifted nervously. "Well, in case yous didn' already notice, some of the guys are getting' suspicious about the way you keep disappearin' ta Manhattan. So some a dem was following yous when you'd go out."  
  
"Yeah, I ain't dense."  
  
He swallowed hard, saying quickly, "Blood decided he's sick a da guys' incompetence, so he's gonna follow you. He got a knife, and if he sees sometin' he don't like, he'll kill you."  
  
Fear glinted in her eyes for a split second, but they hardened. "How'd you find out?" Her voice was expressionless, but fury was radiating off her body.  
  
"Eavesdroppin'."  
  
Spot nodded and turned away from Sneaks, dismissing him. He paused at the door and turned back to face her. "Y'know, you could prolly make it ta Manhattan and back again widout Blood or Watcher followin'. Y'know, ta tell Jack you won't be able ta see him for a while."  
  
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to one side. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Well, you and him seem pretty close, and you keep goin' there ta see him, so I figured....Anyway, they can't hold it against you, Watcher and Blood. In fact, they're downstairs fuckin' right now." Sneaks went on. "You know, I understand you might not want anyone else ta know right now. It ain't exactly sometin' I'd want everyone knowin'-"  
  
"Sneaks?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You talk too much."  
  
Sneaks nodded, blushing a bit, and scurried away. Spot closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She chuckled at the thought of her and Jack together, but sobered immediately, crossing to her bed and plopping down on it.  
  
Of course she'd known she was being followed, but she chose to ignore them, taking them to be newsies of a different borough. She thought they were far too easy to lose for them to be Brooklyn newsies, but apparently their tracking skills weren't as good as she'd assumed. Understandably, Blood had gotten pissed off, and was ready to fucking stab her. Not to mention Sneaks just subtly admitted he was gay and had a crush on her.  
  
Adding that knowledge to the problems she had before Sneaks came to her, Spot buried her head in her hands. This was all too much to handle at once. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly, but she was used to that happening a lot lately. It also reminded her of what she'd eventually have to deal with.  
  
"I don't need this," she muttered, rubbing her eyes furiously to stop the tears from leaving her eyes. "Not now."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A/N: Dun dun dun! Will Blood kill Spot? Will Spot risk going to see Racetrack again? And what is troubling Spot other than the fact there's a bunch of people who want her dead?  
  
Duthcy!Muse: Find out next week, on:  
  
Spot!Muse: The most embarrassin' ting ta eva happen ta me.  
  
R!Muse: Aw, Spot, it ain't dat bad. At least yous still wid me.  
  
Spot!Muse: Yeah, but...YOU KNOW WAT NEXT CHAPTA IS!!  
  
Skittas!Muse: Ahahaha, that is TOO good.  
  
Spot!Muse: ::death glare:: YOU came up wid it, didn' you?  
  
Skittas!Muse: I *may* have had sometin' ta do wid it.  
  
Spot!Muse: I'LL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!  
  
OKAY, calm down, can we PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT NEXT CHAPTER?!?!?!  
  
Dutchy!Muse: Wait, Spot's-  
  
::glares::  
  
AllMuses: ::hushed silence::  
  
To find out what happens in the next chapter, you can review, and then I'll post the chapter, since I've pretty much gotten it all written out, it needs to be finished and typed.  
  
Next chapter is when a lot of you readers will hate me. For that, I cannot wait. ::rubs hands together::  
  
And, fiftieth reviewer gets a llama-licious review.  
  
Much love,  
  
~Liams Kitten~ 


	11. Revelations

A/N: It didn't take me THAT long to update -;; only about four months. And I must thank all you reviewers for helping my reviews reach the magic number- 69. =D Now, before we start, I'd just like to say...enjoy the madness which has been growing in my brain ever since I started this fic. ::laughs crazedly::

Dedication: For Stage, because she was my 50th reviewer, and reviewed all 10 chappies in one go. =D

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Chapter 11: Revelations

The Manhattan newsies were in a lazy mood. They had to stop selling earlier than usual, due to a sudden storm. First they thought they'd be able to sell through it, but whatever hopes they had melted along with the newspapers when the thunder started. They all retired to the lodging house, where they amused themselves with their usual "rainy day" pastime.

"YEAH BABY!" Racetrack beamed as he won another hand. Race's "poker muse" had returned, much to everyone's disappointment. Several boys dropped out of the game a while ago, claiming Race cleaned them out.

Everything was going right for Racetrack. Despite the fact that, a few weeks earlier, Spot had come to him and told him she couldn't come to Manhattan for a while, Race felt his luck had completely turned around from earlier on. His poker game had improved, the rate at which he sold papers was better, even losing at the tracks wasn't as upsetting since Spot. Best of all, what had been the object of his affections for almost two years was finally his. Sure, they hadn't spent real time together in a long time, and last time he'd seen her she acted very cold toward him, but, in Racetrack's opinion, nothing could go wrong.

Spot came storming into the Manhattan lodging house. "Where is he? Where is that little shit? I'll moida him! I'll moida ya!"

She was standing in the doorway, dripping wet with a crazed look in her eye.

Jack stood up quickly. "Spot, calm down!"

Spot pulled her cane out. "Calm down? Yous want me to calm fuckin' DOWN?" Thunder boomed behind her. "How da HELL do you expect me ta calm down afta what happened?"

"And, what exactly happened?" Blink asked.

Stupid Blink.

Spot advanced on Kid Blink. Anger was radiating off her body. Blink cowered as she stood over him, cane held high. "None a ya fuckin' BUSINESS, that's what!"

"Spot," Jack said, grabbing her cane before she could strike Blink. "Stop and tink a moment!"

Furious, Spot let go of her cane and lunged at Jack. "Don' fucking tell ME to stop and tink!" she said, slamming his back against the wall. "Just tell me WHERE da FUCK he IS!!"

Jack pulled Spot off of him and held her by the collar. ""Who da fuck are you fucking looking for?!" he screamed, getting very pissed off at Spot.

Spot yanked her shirt out of his hands. She spotted Racetrack, who was frozen with his hand on the stack of money since Spot entered. She stormed over to him, grabbing him by the back of his neck and pulling him up the stairs into the bunkroom, throwing him in and slamming the door impressively.

Stunned silence filled the room. Jack still stood by the wall, mouth open and eyes bugging. Then, as a single unit, the boys rushed up the staircase, pushing each other to get to the door first.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Ow, that's my foot!"

"No, it's my foot!"

"Well dat's me arm!"

"QUIET!"

The tangle of bodies parted to let Jack through. He crouched in front of the door, an ear pressed against it. Laying a finger to his lips, he beckoned to the others. They crowded around him. Dutchy lay flat on his stomach, peering through the crack between the door and the floor to watch, while Specs straddled over him and laid an ear to the door. Everyone arranged themselves so a part of them was able to hear/see what was going on inside.

---------------------------------------

Spot grabbed Racetrack by his collar and shook him the way a tiger might shake its prey.

"You stupid bastard. You little piece of shit!" She threw him to the floor. "Do you have any fuckin' idea wat the fuck you've done?" She threw her cane across the room, where it hit a wall and landed on the floor.

Racetrack got to his feet. "Obviously not, since you haven't told me!" he yelled back.

Spot snarled. She swung a punch, but missed when he ducked, her fist connecting solidly with a bunk bed. She threw it onto the floor, turning around to stare Race down. He calmly returned her stare. She swung at him again, this time catching the side of his face. He fell again, and lay there staring up at her.

"Don' fuckin' talk ta me like that," she growled. Race cringed slightly. "Get up, you worthless piece a shit," she said, kicking him. As he rose, Spot took his shirt in her hands and slammed him into a wall, screaming insults in his face. Racetrack composed himself as well as he could, then slapped Spot across the face.

"Get a hold a yaself," he said, while she stared at him, shocked. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she slumped against the wall.

"I hate you," she mumbled, angrily wiping the streams from her eyes. Thunder rumbled in the background.

"A course you do. Can I please know why?"

Spot started to laugh, which came out more like a bark. "You wanna know why," she said, a strange look on her face. "D'ya hea that? He wants ta know _why._" She stood up calmly, pulling him to her until his face was less than an inch from hers. "Well, Racetrack," she started quietly, "it's because I'm FUCKIN' PREGNANT!" She shoved him away from her, screaming, "You got me PREGNANT, you stupid bastard!"

"What?" Race whispered, a horrified look upon his face.

"Are you DEAF?! YOU. Got me. PREGNANT!" Spot felt at her waist for her cane, then realized she had thrown it across the room. She tried to punch him, but he caught her hand.

Holding her hands in his, Race began to say, "Look, Colleen-"

She kneed him in the groin, pulling her hands free. "Don't call me that!" she roared, overturning another bunk and kicking it for good measure. "The name's Spot Conlon, nothin' else." She tried to look intimidating but started shaking, so Race caught her and helped her sit on the edge of a bed.

He let go of her, kneeling in front of her and saying, "Are you positive yous is pregnant?"

She nodded, rolling her shirt up to expose her stomach. Sure enough, there was a slight bulge that had never been there before.

Race swallowed nervously. "So how...how long've you been...been...like dat?"

"Yous mean how long've I known?" Race nodded. "About two months dat I'm shoa of."

Racetrack was forcing himself to remain calm, though he had the sudden urge to start screaming and punching things himself. He tried saying lightly, "Would it help if I said I'm sorry?"

Spot jumped up. "Oh, right, this is a great time t'be makin' jokes, Higgins," she said, her Brooklyn accent slipping into an Irish one. "Good Lord, what have ye gotten me into?"

"Wat have _I_ gotten _you_ inta?" Race stood, facing her. "I don' know if ya knew dis, but it takes TWO people ta make a baby. So don' blame me."

"I can blame whoe'er the hell I wanna blame," Spot shouted. "Ye aren't th' one who needs t' carry around a baby with ye for seven more months. YE aren't th' one who's been passin' herself off as a boy to get th' respect she deserves. An' ye certainly have no right t' be tellin' me tha' I can' blame ye for wha' I have t' deal with."

Racetrack stood there, speechless. She smiled a meaningless smile, walked to get her cane, then stopped in front of him again. "Fallin' in love with ye was th' stupidest mistake I've ever made," she said quietly. "I'll see ye later." And with that, she made her way to the door.

---------------------------------------------------

"Wat's goin' on?"

"Shut up, I can't hea!"

"Move ova, yous is on me foot!"

"Nope, still my foot."

Jack rolled his eyes, shifting so that maybe he'd be able to hear something through the thick door.

"How's the view from down thea?" Specs asked from his comfortable position on top of Dutchy.

"Not all dat great. All I can see is feet an' bunk beds bein' pushed ova. And sometimes Racetrack."

A hush fell over the boys as Spot's angry voice was heard by all. Then the whispers started again.

"Pregnant? Who's pregnant?"

"SPOT'S pregnant?"

"You moron, how could _Spot_ be pregnant?"

"I tink I gotta pee..."

Silence fell once more when Spot began yelling again. Before anyone could say anything, Jack put a finger to his lips. "If yous'd listen ta me," he said in a slow, deliberate voice, "I could tell yous wat's goin' on." Excited whispers began, but died down quickly, replaced by anxious curiosity. Jack smiled to himself, pleased by the authority he had over the rest, as he continued, "Spot didn' come hea because he's pregnant, since it'd be impossible foa him ta get pregnant. But, Racetrack got Spot's cousin, what's-her-face-"

"Patricia," Mush supplied.

"Right. He got Patricia pregnant."

There was a crash. "Spot's pushed ova anudda bunk," Dutchy chirped from the floor.

"Now Spot's mad 'cause Race called him 'Conlon'," said Jack. "He says his cousin's been pregnant foa about two months now." Jack pressed his ear closer to the door. "I can't really undastand him now. He's got dis real thick accent, an' he's talkin' real fast."

"Well, he's from Brooklyn, ain't he?" Boots piped up.

"Da kid makes sense," Skittery said. "Brooklyners do weird tings when dey're pissed."

Jack scrunched his face up. "I can't hear 'em now," he murmured.

Specs felt Dutchy go tense. "Oh shit. Shit, shit, shitshitshit, SPECS MOVE YA ASS!"

It was too late. The door swung open, and any newsboy who had been leaning against it found himself right in front of a furious looking Spot. She stared at them for a moment, confused, and they stared back, frightened.

"Fuckin' cheese it!!" Her roar was punctuated with a roll of thunder as cold fury pumped through her veins. She pulled out her cane, knocking boys in various body parts to release her frustrations.

The boys fell over one another as they scrambled to clear the way, each getting mauled by the cane several times. Finally, without any regard toward whatever or whomever she may be walking on, Spot stomped down the staircase. She flipped Jack off as he tried to stop her, and slammed the front door behind her so hard that a piece of wood flew off.

The boys sat around, unsure of what to do. Then Jack said smoothly, "Mush, go in the bedroom."

"What?!" Mush squeaked.

"Go in there and see how Racetrack's doin'."

"Why me? I answered the door las' time. Someone else should go."

"Mush, just go in dere an' talk ta him!"

Mush glared. "Fine," he said coldly, and stood up to go upstairs. Blink joined him once he realized Mush was rather pissed off and probably would end up making Race mad rather than helping.

Blink walked in before Mush, calling softly, "Racetrack?" No one answered, so he walked along the rows of bunk beds, looking for the short Italian boy. He found him, lying in his bed, cigar in mouth. Blink crouched down on the floor next to Race's bed, and took the cigar from his mouth.

Race stared at him, a dead look in his eyes. "What have I done?" he moaned softly. Mush sat across from Blink.

Kid Blink whispered, "You got her pregnant."

He nodded. Mush looked at Blink, then said, "We know. You got Spot pregnant."

Race looked horrified. "Whoa, wait, you hoid her? Shit, she's gonna kill me..."

Blink shook his head. "Yous don' gotta worry. We all hoid her, but Jack convinced everyone else you got 'Patricia' pregnant. Not Spot. Dey all tink she's still a he."

Now Race looked confused. "But...you know." Blink nodded. "And..." Race pointed to Mush, "he knows." Mush nodded. "How?"

"'Cause we's the only ones smart enough to figure out 'Spot' an' 'Patricia' are the same person," Mush said. "Now come downstairs, and prove Spot didn' kill yous."

"I don' wanna," said Race, burying his face in his hands.

"Why not?" Blink asked.

"I can't face anybody now. Not afta what I done. She's pregnant, and dat means afta a couple a months, she won' be able ta hide it anymore, an' she'll get found out. And yous know whose fault it's gonna be? Mine." Racetrack got up. "It's all my fault, an' none of it shoulda eva happened. Now if yous'll excuse me," he said, walking over to the window, "I'm gonna go now." He began lowering himself down, but felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into Mush's doe-y brown eyes, usually so gentle, now furious and a little worried.

"I'll let yous go," he said, tightening his grip on Racetrack, "but yous gotta promise you won't do anyting stupid. Don' kill yaself ova this."

Racetrack looked surprised a moment, but then sighed. "Fine, I promise I won' kill meself. I jus' need a little time ta think. Alone." Mush looked searchingly into his eyes, but then nodded and let him go. He watched Race disappear around a corner, before speaking. "Blink, go tell Jack Race's gone," he said, straightening an overturned bed.

Jack was angry that they had let Race get away, but Mush told him coldly that Racetrack needed time to himself. Without any further comments, Mush got into his bed. Jack looked at Blink, who shrugged and climbed in after Mush.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Spot's livid speed slowed down a little. She knew she had hurt Racetrack, which made her feel terrible, but she couldn't deal with all of this pressure put on her. She kicked a rock, listening to it clatter down the street. With a heavy sigh, she slumped against the side of a building, the rain mixing with tears on her face.

-----------------------------------------------------------

He followed in the shadows, making sure to keep enough distance between them that he could duck out of sight if she turned around, but didn't lose her. The knife felt cold in his hand, the rain making his hold slippery. He watched as she leaned against the building. He watched as she crossed the bridge.

He had heard her shouting from inside the lodging house, and began stalking her when she left. Pure rage was pumping through his veins as he trailed her, his eyes narrowing with fury. She stopped and, without turning around, said coolly, "I know you're here."

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A/N: =D this is by far my favorite chappie...you've NO idea how much fun it was to write. And my Spot!Muse would say something, but he's off trying to bury himself.

R!Muse: Ain't it cute how easily he's embarrassed?

LK: Yeah. Downright adorable.

SHOUT-OUTS:

COTTON BLOSSOM: ::uber glomp:: I'm happy you liked it YAY! And an extra YAY to my little Hector/Paris flamer. STOP THE INCEST! =D

SPOTLOVER421: Or whatever you go by nowadays- ::glomps:: Ehh, sorry it took me such a long time updating ;; but I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!

STAGE: You know, when I got all of your reviews, I thought was being screwy and decided to send me the same review fifty times, but then I started doing a happy dance when I found out they were actual reviews...DUDE I loveth you ::hugs:: And, so far, one of your guesses was correct...and maybe the other two are...but maybe they're not. ::Mush!Muse gives you a llama:: Since you were grand old reviewer number fifty. =D

SATURDAY: DUDE! ::does "the story's on your fav list" happy dance:: Hehe, my life is complete now that I know I made you almost wet yourself. (Spot!Muse: ::twitches:: I am not femmie...::twitches::) Ahh I love you too! ::tackle glomps::

AIR: YAYness! Thank you so much! ::hugs::

KLINOA: Seems your theory on Spot being pregnant wasn't all that far-fetched after all...=D Thank you for reading it since the beginning, that news makes me happy indeed. ::hugs::

LILY: ::uber flying-tackle glompage-ness:: Aah, I updated but you're in camp, NOOOOooo!!! And, reviewing fivemillionhundredthousand times under different names doesn't trick us, silly fae-person! But lookie look, it is an update WOO partay on down!! =D All them compliments make me blush (Spot!Muse: ::twitches::) Oh, don't mind him one lick, he's just PMS-ing LOVE LOVE LOVE you.

FOURLEAFCLOVER12: Thankies for liking it! Heh, heh, sorry for taking such a long time to update...Anyhoos, I hope the suspense didn't kill you dead, cause that'd be a bad thing, yessir. ::hugs::

TWO-BITS: Nope, that wasn't it, I'm just a lazy author. But I appreciate your review very much!!! And your lame joke amused ME...but grass amuses me...THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!!!!

And now, if all of you who made it this far would be so kind, please review my story. Since its summer, I can promise to have the next chappie up within a week...but only if you review...

Love and pregnant newsies,

Liams Kitten


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